In His Shoes
by ReluctantSlashFan
Summary: The boys travel to Georgia to investigate, what they think, is possession, but turns out to be witchcraft. Dean ends up on the receiving end of one of the spells.
1. Chapter 1

**Just re-updating some stories, don't mind me.**

**I own nothing.**

_**Supernatural**_

**Atlanta, Georgia-three weeks ago…**

Matt hated being late for work, it was the worst thing in the world to hear his boss scream for ten minutes about how others would love his job, that he's lucky he has it in the first place, that their mother had to beg him to hire him. It literally embarrassed him to know that he had to have his mother, beg his brother, to give him a job. He was twenty-four, a grown man; he should be able to find his own job.

That's, at least, what he tried to tell himself. Truth was he was pathetic. The only wish he ever had was-that if he could start over-he'd do things differently. He'd try harder in school, not waste all his time flirting with girls. He'd be better than his brother Mitch, he'd tell Mitch to shove it.

Knowing that would never happen, that time travel was just in films, he rounded the corner to Harrisburg Corp. There he was tech-support. Didn't know shit about computers, probably would get laughed out of MIT, but he was tech-support. Sometimes he believed Mitch hated him.

Before he could reach the building a young woman stopped him. She had waist length wavy, blond hair. Her eyes were a light blue, matching the blue dress she had on. Her skin was pale, which made Matt raise an eyebrow. He was expecting some type of tan from the long past Georgia summer. _She's probably out of town, you dolt_, he thought. Even he thought he was stupid sometimes.

"I couldn't help but notice you seem sort of unhappy," she commented in a quiet voice that held some sort of charismatic quality. He was instantly curious to what she had to say.

"Unhappy is an understatement," Matt replied without thinking. He had no idea why he even responded to her comment.

"I can help," she whispered smiling slightly.

"Really how?"

"Just relax." She moved toward him, resting her cold hand on his forehead. It felt like something zapped him and then everything went black.

When he came to he was laying in a hospital bed. The room was decorated with clown pictures, the entire wall wallpapered in them. Then he heard someone talking outside the room, about someone named Ricky. _Who the hell's Ricky_, he thought sitting up.

The door was ajar, so when he sat up the conversing couple cut off and walked into the room. It was a doctor and a woman. Matt didn't know either one of them. The doctor was gray haired, wore a lab coat, and carried a clipboard. The woman was red headed, had tears in her green eyes, and was looking at Matt in worry.

"Ricky, are you okay?" She asked cautiously.

"Ricky? Who's Ricky?" Matt responded suddenly confused.

"Y…you are sweetie," the woman replied raising an eyebrow.

"What? What do you mean I'm Ricky?" he was panicking, figuring whatever that girl did to him was screwing with his head. He caught a glimpse of the window, the night sky casting reflections and Georgia lights back at him. Staring at him, in the bed, wasn't his reflection, but a small, red headed boy's reflection. He looked about seven, a lot younger than Matt's twenty-four years. _What the hell's going on_, he thought in a blind panic. _What did that chick do to me?_

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

**Present Day…**

Sam was conked out on his bed when Dean opened the door. He was holding coffee in his good hand; his other hand still messed up. He had broken his wrist, or a vampire had broken it, during a job in New York. One of the weirdest jobs he worked. Especially when they ran into people that not only their dad knew, but also fought with him; if that wasn't strange enough he met an ME turned CSI who knew about the supernatural and also another CSI who was like his more annoying, _and less handsome_, equal; plus, that CSI's girlfriend whom Dean still planned to steal from Danny any day now.

Shaking his head, trying to forget about his trip to New York (he couldn't stand the state anyway) he set the coffee down on the table and kicked his brother's bed. Sam jerked awake mumbling, "Dude, what the hell?"

"Rise and shine, Sammy," Dean replied holding out a cup of coffee. Sam sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He took the coffee from his brother, taking a sip. He made a face when he realized it was black.

"That's yours," he muttered handing it back to Dean.

"Is it?" Dean took the cup, opening the lid to get a better look. Shrugging slightly he popped the lid back on and took a drink. "How you can't like black coffee," he said savoring the flavor.

"I just don't. What time is it, anyway?" Sam asked getting to his feet. He walked over to the remaining coffee and popped the lid off. When he was satisfied that it wasn't black, he picked it up and took a drink.

"Seven-thirty," Dean replied setting his own cup down. "I was going to wake you up at nine, but I didn't want to hear you bitch about getting up too late."

Ignoring his brother's comment, Sam took another drink of coffee and said, "We've got to interview those kids today. I still don't like the sound of this case."

"What, five kids claiming to be twenty-something adults? What's so weird about that?" Sam caught the sarcasm in Dean's tone and glared at him. "Look, Hawks said it was possession, you think it's possession…"

"That's just it Dean, I don't think it's possession anymore. I'm beginning to think its witchcraft…"

"I hate witches," Dean muttered shuddering. "Now, let's be sure it ain't demons before we go making that assumption. Asses are made out of those who assume."

"It's 'you make an ass…' Never mind; look why would a demon possess a kid and then say he was twenty-something? It just doesn't make sense, but if a witch is switching bodies. Making kids into adults and vice versa…"

"Let's just interview the kids, see what they have to say. Then we'll talk to the adults…"

"That'll be kind of hard Dean; all five adults have been put in a local psychiatric hospital. Their families all believed they were clinically insane; it's easier for parents to believe their seven or eight year old is imagining being an adult than an adult believing they are a seven or eight years old."

"Fine, we'll interview the kids. So, you got any idea how we're going to do this?" Dean asked curiously picking up his coffee and drinking it again.

"One," Sam replied looking his brother in the eye.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Megan Andrews answered her door to see two of the cutest guys she had ever seen. The taller one had dark brown hair and hazel eyes. The shorter one had lighter brown hair and green eyes. Cute or not they were standing on her doorstep and they could be anybody. Her smartest action was to be wary.

"Can I help you?" she asked her eyes darting back and forth between the two guys.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Sam Thomas," the taller one said holding out his hand. She shook it, noting the calluses on his palm. When they broke apart, Sam looked at the shorter guy and said, "This is my associate Dean Douglas, we are child psychiatrists here to talk to your son Ricky."

"Ricky has talked to three psychiatrists, why would they send more…"

"We were reading up on this case, and were curious about Ricky's dilemma," Dean cut in.

"Well, what can two more hurt? Come on in." she allowed both guys to enter her house, closing the door behind them.

The first thing Dean noticed about the house was it was cleaner than most houses, almost like the lady bleached it every night. Then he noticed that it was because the walls were painted a very bright, very disturbing yellow. Dean hated the color yellow, no matter the shade. It brought back memories he'd rather keep hidden.

"Ricky's in the living room," Megan said softly and showed them to the room. Even that room was painted yellow, the furniture matching the color. Megan disappeared into the kitchen before the brothers could thank her. They both turned in unison and spotted a depressed looking seven-year-old. He looked like he hadn't moved in a while, almost like he didn't have the strength or energy to move (Dean had met some little kids, they weren't normally that depressed or deprived of energy).

"Kid looks half dead," he muttered to Sam.

"C'mon," Sam replied, ignoring his comment, and walked toward the kid. "Hey, Ricky, how are you?"

"Seeing as I'm not Ricky, I'm fan-freaking-tastic," the kid replied not looking at the brothers. "You more doctors here to tell me to stop pretending?"

"We're here to ask you if anything strange happened to you, you know before you found yourself seven again." Dean had his hand in his jacket pocket, wrapped around a flask of holy water. One wrong move from the kid and he would splash him.

"Look, buddy, I'll tell you what I told those fucking doctors." Dean and Sam both flinched at the harshness from the high, squeaky child's voice. "I was walking to work; you know I worked for my dick brother. I was at the door when this girl stopped me. She told me I looked unhappy, I mentioned that I really wasn't, and she touched my forehead. I blacked out, woke up a couple hours later as this freaking kid. I tried to find my own body but that lady, that Mrs. Andrews is so frigging protective it isn't funny."

"Wait, so this girl just touched your forehead and poof, you're Ricky Andrews?" Dean asked before Sam could say anything.

"That's what I said, but like all the other doctors, you won't believe me."

"Unlike the other doctors, we do believe you," Sam muttered sitting down on the coffee table, directly across from the kid.

"You do?"

"Yeah, we do. Look, what did this girl look like?"

"She was about five-five, with waist length sandy blond hair. Her eyes were light blue and she was wearing a light blue dress. Her skin was pale and she seemed to have the power to knock people out."

"Okay, thanks Ricky…"

"Matt, my name's Matt Harrisburg."

"Well Matt, I'm Sam and this is Dean," Sam said quickly pulling out a pen and a crinkled piece of paper. He scribbled something on it and handed it to the kid. "If you remember anything else please don't hesitate to call."

"I won't," Matt said looking a little less depressed since the Winchesters walked in. Sam and Dean exited the house moments later, heading toward the Impala.

"So, do you still think its demons, Dean?" Sam asked eyeing his brother inquisitively.

"_Still think its demons, Dean_," Dean mocked quietly. He started his Impala and pulled back into the street. "We still can't rule out demons. Maybe 'Yellow Eyes' has another plan…"

"He hasn't been seen or heard from in how long and he decides to plot something in Georgia out of the blue? No, what he's done already has been carefully planned, this doesn't seem his style."

"Fine, but I am not agreeing to witches until I get some proof."

"Proof how? Unless you plan to check every scene for sulfur you have no way of getting proof."

"Look Sammy, if I _have_ to check every scene for proof of demonic activity I will. I will not, I repeat 'not', say its witches unless I absolutely, positively have run out of options."

"Fine, Dean, we'll check every possible scene, then," Sam muttered and turned to look out the window. Dean nodded and flipped on his favorite Metallica tape. 'Turn the Page' started blaring through the speakers and no other chance at a conversation could be attempted.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Alex hated his teacher. He couldn't stand the pure fact that she treated him like he was four. He was fricking eight and a half, for God's sake. She just needed to learn to see that not all kids acted like Tate Jones. Tate was an idiot, Tate wanted attention, _Tate should have his teeth kicked in_, Alex thought bitterly. He was sitting directly behind Tate, he was a good four or five inches taller than him, he could do it. The recess bell rang before he could really convince himself to do it. All the kids headed out the door, even the teacher was gone (Alex knew she used recess for her cigarette breaks). _Why'd she frigging decide to teach if we make her that nervous_, he thought getting to his feet.

Sometimes Alex wished he was an adult, just so he didn't have to deal with Ms. Belmont and her misinterpretation of children and the pure fact that she had yellow teeth and bad smelling breath. Sighing-knowing it wasn't ever going to happen-Alex pushed himself to his feet.

He headed out of the classroom, his locker in sights, and nearly crashed into a tall blond. She was taller than him, at any rate. Her hair was long, longer than Jenny Miller's before her brother spit gum in it and she had to get it cut off. It was also blond, Jenny had brown hair (Alex would never admit it to any of his friends, but he sorta liked Jenny). The woman was eyeing Alex curiously, seemingly taking in his features.

"Can I help you?" he asked suspiciously. He knew better than to talk to strangers, but there was something about the woman that made him think he knew her.

"It seems you are unhappy," she muttered softly.

"Nothing a little video games and television can't fix," Alex muttered not sure why he said anything. He could almost hear his mother saying, "_Alexander Lawrence we do not talk to strangers_."

"I can help," she said simply.

"Yeah, how?"

"Relax," she replied and touched his head. He felt something jolt him, almost like an electrical charge, and everything went black.

He woke up to someone saying, "Dean, wake up." it was an unfamiliar voice, a male's voice. His mother definitely told him to stay away from male strangers. Then the name caught up with him. _Dean, who's Dean?_

"Dean, please wake up." the voice begged and Alex opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed in a motel room. The place had dark green wallpaper and smelt like his Grandpa Max's office (gun cleaner was one thing Max always used; he never quite let his Marine spirit die). Also it smelt of stale beer (Alex had grew up on the smell, his mother and him living with his grandparents, the smell was etched into his brain), dirty socks (his older brother, who was the product of a one night stand three years before Alex's dad married Alex's mom and ten years after that divorced her, had a habit of leaving his smelly socks on Alex's pillow before he came over to stay the weekend; his brother Parker was a huge asshole, anyway), and coffee (Alex's mother had an addiction to coffee, their house smelt like it and it was also etched into his brain).

Alex sat up to see a tall, brunette guy looking at him. The guy had concern in his eyes and he looked directly at Alex. He moved forward, sitting at the foot of the bed. Alex moved away from him, pulling long legs (_Long legs, how am I taller)_ away from him. In fact, a lot of things had changed since the morning. He was no longer in his kakis, he was wearing jeans. His scuffed, white sneakers were gone and he was wearing a pair of boots. He had a ring on his right hand, a brace on his right wrist, and an amulet around his neck.

"What the heck is going on?" he asked in a voice that didn't sound like his own. It was deeper, more forceful, almost like his _new_ voice held a lot of authority, _or just yelled a lot_, Alex thought thinking of his Grandpa Max, after fifty years of yelling at marines his voice had a permanent gruffness to it.

"Dean, are you okay?" the brunette asked cautiously.

"Who is Dean?" Alex asked his eyes flicking to the taller guys blue-green ones and then back around the room.

"You're Dean… Or are you? Did you switch bodies, too?" Alex had no idea what the tall man was talking about. All the wanted to do was go home. He got to his feet, nearly knocking the other guy off the bed, and headed toward the door. He caught a glimpse of himself in a cracked mirror, next to the entrance and nearly passed out.

He had changed; his hair was blond when he woke up that morning, his eyes gray. Now he had light brown hair, pale green eyes. He had stubble on his face, which made him run a hand over it. _Parker was just getting stubble and he was fifteen years old. _Alex may not have known a lot of things, but he was sure eight was a tad too soon for facial hair. All that wouldn't have bothered him as much as his face. It wasn't his face anymore, but a stranger's. That's when he knew who Dean was, the guy staring back at him.

"What the heck is happening?" he repeated backing away from the mirror and running straight into the tall, brunette. The brunette caught him and steadied him before he fell over. Alex was freaking out and didn't even attempt to stop the tall guy from guiding him to a chair. All he wanted to do was cry and see his mother.

"Are you crying?" the tall man asked sitting opposite of him.

"W…why," Alex retorted wiping angrily at his slowly falling tears.

"Look, my name is Sam Winchester, what's yours?"

"M…my mom says not t…to ta…talk to strangers," Alex said tears falling faster down his face. He just wanted to go home, this game wasn't fun anymore. Whatever that lady did, it wasn't funny and he wasn't happy.

"That's good advice, kid, but if you don't tell me who you are you can't get back into your body," Sam muttered sympathetically.

"A…Alex Lawrence," Alex replied wiping his eyes.

"And how old are you, Alex?"

"Eight."

"Oh boy," Sam whispered leaning his head against the back of the chair.

"W…why?"

"Because, you're in the body of a twenty-seven year old," Sam replied simply looking Alex directly in the shocked face. _I can't be twenty-seven, I just can't. My ninth birthday is a month away._ But somehow he was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Still don't own 'em…**

_**Supernatural**_

Dean knew something was up the moment he woke up. The clown wallpaper was a dead giveaway. He tried to push Sam's face, if he saw this room, out of his head; he knew it was very serious to find out the situation and laughing would not help at all. He slowly sat up, looking over at a brunette woman sleeping in a chair. She had her jacket covering her arms, her head resting on her shoulder.

"Um…" was all Dean said and the woman startled awake. She was close to tears as she sprang to her feet and said, "Alex, honey, are you okay?"

_Okay, I'm not Dean now, un-freaking-believable. Don't panic or shot off the mouth, Matt didn't get far with telling the truth. I'll just humor this woman_. "Yeah, I'm great," Dean replied slowly. In retrospect, besides being a kid, he was fine. No headache, no dizziness, no nausea; he was peachy keen and a half.

"The doctors couldn't tell why you passed out, sweets. You've been out for a couple of hours…"

"I don't know either," Dean said softly. He kept up the short answers, knowing anything longer would result in the "Dean can't lie_" _mode, which was the worst time to catch him. Sammy was the good liar, the master manipulator; he was the gun toting, angry big brother. Mixing of the roles could be disastrous, especially in dire situations. _Not that this situation is dire, not yet at least_.

"I'll go get your doctor, he'd want to know you're awake," the woman said, whom Dean was beginning to think was Alex's mother, and rushed out of the room. He lay back on his pillow, trying to plan his next move. What he needed to do was get a hold of Sam. Sliding out of bed, actually happy the kid hadn't been changed into a hospital gown, he slipped on Alex's shoes and headed out of the room.

Looking both ways, making sure Alex's mom was in a deep conversation with a gray haired doctor, he headed down the hallway toward the waiting area. A set of payphones were like a beacon for him. He checked the kid's pockets, noticing that Alex had no change (_honestly, I at least had a couple quarters on me when I was his age_). Deciding to just call collect, he stepped up to the phones and picked up one. He hit zero and the operator said, "Please state number and area you wish to call." The voice over said. Dean said the area and gave Sam's number. "Please hold." It took a couple seconds, but finally the phone started ringing. Sam answered and the phone said, "A collect call from…" cutting off, giving Dean time to speak, he said, "We are screwed" and the voice over continued with, "Do you accept the charges." Sam must have said yes because he was on the line seconds later, "Dude, somehow you got switched."

"No, I've always been a seven…"

"Eight," Sam interrupted.

"What?"

"Alex is eight," Sam replied slowly.

"Fine, eight-year-old. What did you get from the kid?"

"He's sleeping now, but before he fell asleep he said that he was leaving his classroom, the bell had just rung for recess, when he ran into a blond…"

"Same girl that Matt described?"

"Sounds like her; she also sounds like…"

"Don't say it, Sammy. I swear I will hunt you down and…"

"You can't deny it now, Dean. A witch must have switched bodies with you and Alex. Maybe she knew we were in town and wanted us distracted…"

"Then why didn't she change you?"

"I don't know, Dean. Maybe she believed you were whinier or something."

"I am not whiney. You are."

"Look, for the time being, you need to be Alex. Just keep up the charade long enough for me to figure out how to fix you and Alex."

"Fine. So, how's the kid taking all this?"

"He cried," Sam replied and hung up. Rolling his eyes, Dean hung up the phone and turned around to see the brunette woman and the gray haired doctor standing right behind him. He smiled sheepishly and said, "Just checking to see if the phones work."

"Come on, Alex," Alex's mother said and took his hand. Dean was taken back to when he was three or four, when his own mother would take his hand and lead him through the store. _"Come on Dean; let's figure out what we're going to have for dinner."_ He was pulled out of the memory by Alex's mother saying, "One CAT-Scan, see what's going on in your head, and then you can go to sleep. By tomorrow, you could be home."

"I'm honestly fine, now. I bet I could go home right now," Dean said watching as they walked past rooms. He wished he could get out of there, even "disguised" as an eight-year-old he still felt freaked around doctors.

"Alex, let the doctor decide."

"Fine, I'm just saying he's not going to find anything."

They got on an elevator and the doctor pushed the number three. As the door closed Dean couldn't help but think _Sammy I swear if you don't hurry up I am going to go crazy._

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sam woke up to running water. At first he just thought it was Dean, taking a shower, so he put his head back down on his compute keyboard. Then recent events caught up to him and he sprang to his feet.

"Alex, are you okay?" he called stopping at the bathroom door.

"Yeah," Dean's voice shot back. It still was weird to hear his brother, but know it wasn't his brother.

"Did you find Dean's stuff okay?" Sam asked heading back to the chair he just abandoned.

"Yeah," Alex replied the shower turning off. "I just found the bag with the cooler clothes." Rolling his eyes, he couldn't help but think, _Maybe my brother is still here, just eight-years-old again._ Sam may have only been four when Dean was eight, and the memories may have been fuzzy, but he couldn't help but let his mind wander to when he and Dean went to school. One of the very few times Dean actually walked into a school.

Sam had begged, pleaded, nearly pulled his dad's arm out of socket, to go to school like Dean. He wanted to sit through class all day, learn, socialize. John finally broke down and enrolled him into preschool. One memory in particular stuck out in Sam's mind. He remembered he had to wear Dean's hammy downs, John not really able to afford to buy him a new wardrobe. Sam didn't actually care what he wore, but he remembered seeing all the other kids wearing new clothes, carrying new book bags, using new supplies. Sam had asked Dean, during recess, "_Why don't we have new things like the other kids."_ To which Dean replied, "_If anyone ever questions what you wear, remember one thing, you have, by far, the coolest wardrobe ever."_ Sam gave him an inquiring look and asked, "_Why?"_ Dean put on his best cocky look and said, "_Because they used to be my clothes, that's why._"

"Sam," someone said and he was nudged. He was jerked back to reality, looking up at his brother's body. Alex hadn't put the time and effort into spiking Dean's hair; he just left it lying flat on his head. He was wearing a tee-shirt Dean loved-a black ACDC shirt that John had given him when he was seventeen. Sam remembered when Dean had lost that shirt, he had screamed his voice hoarse at Sam; telling him that he was going to kill him if he didn't give it back. John's friend Pastor Jim, whom they had been staying with for a week while John went on a hunt, walked into the house carrying a basket of laundry. Dean had to apologize fifty times before Sam would speak to him again.

Alex was also wearing a pair of blue jeans, one of two pairs that Dean owned that didn't have holes in them. It was uncanny how alike Alex and Dean were, almost like the witch switched two people who were similar. That gave him an idea.

"Do you care if we go somewhere?"

"Will it get me back to normal?" Alex asked sitting on Dean's bed and pulling on Dean's boots. "I've always wanted a pair of boots," he commented as an after thought.

"Really, Dean loves those boots. And as for your question, yes it may help you get your body back."

"Then lets go," Alex replied pushing himself to his feet.

"Okay," Sam said feeling weird as he grabbed Dean's keys. He was used to his brother snipping at him, telling him to give him his keys-he was driving, it was his car.

"What kind of car do you guys have?" Alex asked as Sam shut their motel door. Alex had thrown on Dean's leather jacket-another gift from John. They headed toward the parking lot, walking towards Dean's midnight black Impala.

"My dad has a car like this one," Alex commented running a hand across the car's exterior. He headed toward the backseat, getting in.

"Why are you in the back?" Sam asked as Alex closed the door.

"My mom won't let me sit up front until I'm twelve," he replied rolling the window down.

"Alex, I'm not your mother first of all. And second of all, you're technically twenty-seven right now. You could sit up front." And Alex did one thing that Dean would never, ever, ever, ever (ever times a quadrillion) do. He jumped over the seat, landing on the passenger side.

Sam had to laugh, just the image of Dean's face if he saw anyone-even himself-do that was priceless. He would probably have a fit, swear a lot, and check the interior. Beat the crap out of Alex, in his body or not. The Impala was Dean's life, was his baby, was the sole reason he lived and breathed (except for Sam). If anything had happened to the Impala, anything at all, heads would roll.

"What's so funny?" Alex asked and Sam looked at him through the open door.

"Nothing much," he replied getting in the car. "So, your dad has one of these?" he started the Impala, listening to the growl of the engine. He didn't share the appreciation Dean did for the 'purr'-it just sounded like a car to him. He pulled out of the parking lot, heading left.

"Yeah, but it's a '66 and red. He used to drive it everywhere until my brother and his friends took the car for a joyride…"

"What happened?"

"They crashed it into a phone pole. The car's totaled, Dad was pissed, and Parker got off. His mother stepped in, gave my dad a 'special' gift, and he didn't do jack. But who asked about that anyway." Sam knew exactly what Alex knew by 'special gift', but he still found it weird to hear an eight-year-old talk about stuff like that (except possibly Dean).

"It's funny."

"What?"

"I'm assuming Parker is older, right?"

"Yeah, he's fifteen."

"Okay, well it's funny that normally the older one gets away with less than the younger one…"

"Please, I get away with nothing. Carla, my dad's wife, won't let anything happen to her _baby _boy. Parker is a spoiled, moronic, wuss. I'm eight, right, and I can punch him in the shoulder. He'll yell at me, Carla comes swooping in, and I end up shipped back home. He punches me; Carla accuses me of doing something to deserve it… Carla's a bitch."

"At least you live with your mom," Sam muttered turning the corner towards the Andrews' house.

"Yeah, she's a real riot," Alex replied looking out the window.

"What?"

"She's overly protective, lives with her crazy parents, and still is in love with my dad."

"I bet…"

"She won't let me go out on my own, not even with my friends and their parents. Her dad is an ex-marine, a POW, who sleeps with a knife under his pillow and cleans guns out in the open. He keeps a loaded gun by the front door, another in his office, a third in the kitchen. Her mother is clinically insane, worse than Grandpa, and she has a habit of attacking people with knives. She doesn't stab them or anything, but she has been known to leave long cuts on some people; especially my mom. And as for her still being in love with Dad, well she hates Carla with a passion, won't date anyone else… I am probably boring you with all this family history. I know you don't want to hear about my screwed up family."

"Kid, you can't top my screwed up family," Sam muttered turning down another street.

"Why, what's so screwed up about your family?"

"Let's just say my mother was killed when I was six months old, my dad lived his life and died trying to kill her killer. He too was an ex-marine so he pretty much raised me and my brother like soldiers. My brother lived and breathed for that man, did everything he asked, while I pretty much defied him as much as I could. Then I went to college, my dad and I didn't speak for a while, Dean came and got me from college." Sam could hear his brother's words circling his head "_Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days._"

"Look, why don't we talk about something else," Alex suggested picking up on Sam's hesitation. "Like, where we're going?"

"We're going to see Matt…"

"Matt?"

"Matt was changed, like you. He's actually a twenty-something guy, ended up in a seven-year-old's body."

"Why do we have to talk to him?"

"I want to figure out if he was anything like his counterpart Ricky. Maybe, and this is just a theory, but maybe this woman, this blond, is switching adults and children who have common interests. I couldn't help, but notice you and Dean are a lot alike."

"Is it the ACDC thing, I just thought the shirt was cool. Parker has two of their albums; I thought they had good music. I recognized the band."

"That's my point. Dean likes that band. He also likes Metallica, Motorhead, Bob Seager, Twisted Sister, Ozzy…"

"I heard of, like, none of those bands. I mean, my dad might have…"

"Your eight, I didn't expect you to." They pulled up to the Andrews' house, just in time to see an ambulance pull into a drive-way. Two paramedics ran inside, carrying a stretcher.

"What's going on?" Alex asked suddenly sounding scared.

"I don't know. Stay here, I'll find out." Sam opened the door, the hinges loud in the quiet neighborhood. He headed toward the house, Ricky's mother standing on the porch with tears in her eyes. The two paramedics were carrying out Matt, unconscious on the stretcher.

"Ms. Andrews what's going on?" Sam asked rushing to her side.

"I…I don't know. R…Ricky just collapsed…" she was overcome by sobs, running into the house. Sam watched as the ambulance drove away, then his eyes drifted back to the Impala, where Alex sat. He had a feeling Dean and him were in trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

**Still don't own them…**

_**Supernatural**_

Dean sat in the back seat of Heather Lawrence's station wagon. He wasn't happy about sitting in the back; Alex's mom was dead set on not letting him sit up front. _"You aren't old enough, yet, Alex. You know that_._" _So, he was forced to act like an eight-year-old, sitting in the back seat, wearing a freaking seatbelt. _I rarely use the damn thing in my car, why would I want to use one in this one. Plus, a freaking station wagon… Lady, you are like the oober nerd of Moms._

"Grandpa and Grandma are waiting for you to come home," Heather commented looking at her son's irritated expression in the rearview mirror. She still sounded weirded out, Dean's prediction coming true. The doctor didn't find anything on the CAT-Scan; in fact Alex was lucky enough to have one of the healthier brains. Some kids weren't as lucky as him.

"It's okay, I surprise myself sometimes with my intelligence," Dean commented looking out the window.

"What?"

"The CAT-Scan thing. I was right, you know I was, and I just wanted to say that even I surprise myself, sometimes. But I love being right." He knew he was being too cocky, knew he should just shut up, but he knew he couldn't.

"Cockiness and stubbornness were you're father's strong points, too," Heather commented sounded none too surprised with Dean's words. _Almost like her kid is always like this_, he thought amused.

"Okay," he muttered as they pulled up to a three story Victorian. He wasn't at all happy with the picture perfect family; normal was just something he couldn't live with.

"Let's go," Heather said opening the door. Dean rolled his eyes, cheery people were just so damn annoying to him, and opened his own door. Heather waited for him to land on the gravel before starting to walk. Dean shut the door and hurriedly followed.

"Now, Grandma made lunch so don't comment on it. You know how she hates that. Grandpa was cleaning his rifle when I left, so that should be put away." _A freaking rifle? What kind of house does this kid live in_? Years of hunting demons, using rifles and other weapons, made Dean suddenly interested in Alex's family.

Heather opened the door to a dark foyer; to the left was a maroon living room. All over the walls were trophies of hunting: a deer's head, a moose's head, and a huge stuffed bear in the corner. Dean made a mental note to avoid that room, demons didn't scare him nearly as much as that room. He looked to the right to see a dinning room which also had trophies on the walls. Instead of hunting it was fishing: a bass, a catfish, and another fish that Dean couldn't quite remember the name of. _How the hell did this Alex kid tolerate growing up here_? Dean thought as he sped up, keeping close to Heather.

They continued straight ahead to the kitchen, a brightly lit room of yellow-_again with the freaking yellow. I swear that color will haunt me until my dying day_. An older woman was standing at the sink, the water running.

"I see you're doing dishes, Mom," Heather said quietly stopping in the entrance way. Dean wondered why she did that until the old woman spun around, a knife clenched in her hand. Dean's eyes widened as he backed up a few steps. He didn't want Crazy Granny to attack him-as an eight-year-old he probably couldn't take Granny on.

"Mom, put the knife down," Heather snapped and her mother obliged. She put the knife back in the sink and said, "Sorry, I thought you were those damn ghouls come to take me. You know they took your shape again last night, nearly attacked me."

"Mom that was me. I stopped home to pick up some stuff for Alex." Heather had weariness to her voice that told Dean she had been through this a couple times.

"Oh, well you could have told me. So, Alex dear, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm peachy keen," Dean replied running a hand across his face. He was really starting to regret going along with Sam's plan. _If Crazy Granny attacks me with a knife I will kick her fragile legs out from under her._

"I made your favorite, peanut butter and jelly," CG said walking over to the fridge. She opened it up, extracting two plastic wrapped sandwiches. Dean was pretty hungry, but he wasn't sure if CG poisoned the sandwiches or not.

"Alex, say thank you and take the sandwiches," Heather said under her breath. Dean swallowed and stepped forward. With shaking hands, his fear peaking when he realized that his only help was standing ten feet away, he took the sandwiches and said, "Thank you." CG leaned in and pecked him on the cheek then went back to her dishes.

"Come on, Alex," Heather said and Dean quickly followed her out of the kitchen. They walked toward the dining room, Heather muttering something about how he didn't have to eat the sandwiches, when boots on the stairs caused them to stop.

Hunter instincts kicking in, always on the alert for a new presence, Dean attempted to push Heather back, when he spotted the older guy carrying a .45, walking down the stairs. Heather merely laughed and said, "Why are you acting like that? That's Grandpa, you saw him yesterday morning."

"Oh, don't bother the kid," Alex's grandfather snapped as he took the clip out of the gun. "He's on the alert, just like I taught him." the old man stepped off the last stair and crouched down in front of Dean.

"Did they treat you alright at that hospital, Alex?" he asked. Dean was too busy staring at the .45 to really take notice. He felt a hand on his shoulder, knew it was Heather encouraging him to answer, and he said, "They treated me fine, Sir."

"Good, because if they didn't I swear I would go down there and kick their asses ten times to Sunday. And what's with the 'Sir' crap. I haven't been a sir in thirteen years. Call me Grandpa Max. Only my old army troop is allowed to call me Sir. That's the rules of the game and that's how they'll stay."

"You were a Marine?" Dean asked as his interest peaked higher. John had been a Marine, obviously after Alex's grandfather, but it always was an honor to Dean to meet a fellow army guy. If hunting hadn't been his true calling he might have joined the army, too. He liked to save people, that was his gig, and what better way (besides hunting down a shit load of demonic SOBs) than to join the army.

"Yeah, I told you that. Of course your mama doesn't want me to share any of the stories. Hell, she won't even let me take you hunting. I can see you and me, one day Al, taking out a bear. Just like the one your uncle Nate and I took out."

"You mean the bear that nearly killed you and Uncle Nate," Heather muttered so quietly that only Dean heard her.

"I have a gun to clean, so don't bother me, but maybe later…"

"No, Dad, no. I told you that he is not going to handle a gun. No."

"Heather, you were seven and a half when I taught you and your brother to shoot."

"Yeah, and Max was four. No, Dad."

"Fine." Before Alex's grandfather got up, he leaned in and muttered, "Come to my office, eleven thirty, I'll teach you to shoot." His knees cracked as he stood up. He walked into the living room, placing the .45's clip in his pocket.

"What did he say?" Heather asked cautiously curious.

"That I should eat these sandwiches," Dean replied and continued into the dining room. The old man, Alex's grandfather, reminded him painfully of his own father. He couldn't help but wonder, aside from the fact that his mother probably wouldn't have been crazy, if that was how life for him and Sam would be. If Mary Winchester hadn't died they would never have gotten into hunting, unless it was to go after deer. They could have been a happy family. _Maybe normal isn't so bad after all_.

"Alex, are you okay?" Heather asked standing in the dining room's threshold.

"Yeah," Dean replied unwrapping a sandwich, "I'm good."

"Sweetie, I could make you something else. You don't have to humor Grandma."

"I think I'll take my chances with the sandwich," Dean said and took a bite. It wasn't the best sandwich he ever tasted, but he could tolerate it. _Hell, I could live this kid's life for a couple of days. Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?_

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sam had worked many cases, had actually researched all of them, and he had never missed something before. He never skipped past the finer details, he always double checked everything, but for this case he had missed a crucial point.

He was looking over newspapers featuring the stories on the witch's victims-_I'm freaking calling her a witch, Dean can deny it all he wants, but it's a witch_-when he realized something. He had only figured all the adults were institutionalized because they claimed to be younger, Matt Harrisburg's family had so he assumed the other families did that. _"Asses are made out of people who assume"_ he could hear Dean say. Even if his older brother messed up the wording, he was right. Sam had assumed and Sam had missed a crucial point; Sam had made an ass out of himself.

"Un-freaking-believable," he muttered using one of his brother's favorite lines.

"What?" Alex asked looking up from Sam's computer. Sam had let the kid use it after Alex had complained for ten minutes straight about how bored he was. _I swear, give him a .45 and a Bowie knife and he could be Dean today_. _At least I don't have to worry about the kid looking up porn._

"Nothing, what are you doing?" Sam asked suddenly rethinking his last thought. He didn't know much about eight-year-olds, he thought they didn't look things up such as _Busty Asian Beauties_, but he couldn't be sure.

"Promise you won't get mad?" Alex replied in a quiet voice.

"I won't," Sam said softly, actually dreading the kid's answer.

"I'm looking up body switching."

"Why?" Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't really want to have to reboot the damn computer, check for viruses, then be able to use it. It was tedious process, one that Dean made him do a lot.

"I thought I could help. I mean, I feel completely useless. I figured two heads are better than one. Plus, I thought you'd appreciate the gesture."

"I do, believe me. Dean normally just sits on his ass watching TV." _Maybe the kid is less like Dean than I thought_.

"Oh, I would be watching TV, but there's nothing on. Daytime television sucks. I mean Operah, Dr. Phil, Soap Operas… there isn't a decent cartoon on for at least a couple hours." _ And maybe they are one in the same_.

"Oh, okay." Sam's phone rang. He picked it up, checking the ID. "Maxwell Lawrence?"

"My grandpa's name?" Alex questioned looking up from the computer.

"Hello," Sam answered.

"_Sammy, what's going on_?" It sounded so weird to hear a small, pre-pubescent voice, call him Sammy. The last time he even heard his brother's voice before deepening, was when Sam was around ten. And that was during the awkward teen years, when Dean's voice cracked after most of his words.

"Nothing, what about with you?" Sam had to smile; he was now officially older than Dean. Even if it was a fluke, he was the older brother.

"_I'm wondering how this Alex kid lived this long_." Sam could hear his brother opening drawers, snooping like he normally did. Sam got to his feet, walking away from Alex. He lowered his voice and asked, "Do you honestly think snooping in the kids' families' things is wise?"

"_No, but what else can I do? I need to learn about Alex's history if I want to be believable as him."_

Ignoring Dean's reasoning, Sam said, "What do you mean, 'lived this long'?"

"_This kid's grandfather, Max Sr., has guns in about every room in the house. I mean you'd think, when the kid was four or five…_"

"I'm sure they kept him out of the way of that stuff," Sam muttered. He wasn't sure how he was going to break the news to Dean; to tell him he had skipped over a very important detail. So, he just decided to plunge on, "Dean, I have to tell you something."

"_Did you scratch my car? I swear to God, and all things holy, if you so much as breathed on it wrong…"_

"It's not the Impala," Sam said his voice getting quieter.

"_Then what is it?"_ Dean was still snooping; Sam could hear the telltale signs. Especially when he heard a click of a gun and his brother whispered, "_Yatzee."_

"I missed something in the research," Sam said quickly and heard his brother take the gun apart. Sam could never understand what Dean's obsession was with proving he could take a gun apart. He remembered when Dean was twelve, when he perfected gun assembly, and used to attempt to break his own record. He got down to seven seconds flat for a 9mm; that included cleaning, too.

"_What did you say?"_ Dean asked putting the gun back together. Sam could almost see him checking his watch, still trying to beat his seven seconds, even after fifteen years.

"I missed something," Sam said a little louder.

"_What did you miss_?" Dean was still distracted. Sam could hear a shotgun being taken apart. "Dean, focus. I missed a crucial point in the research."

"_You never miss things, though. You're Mr. Perfect_…" it was odd to hear how much faith his brother had in his researching skills. And it stung to know he had to let his big brother down.

"Apparently the adults' bodies weren't all institutionalized because they claimed to be children again. Only two families resorted to that action right from the beginning. So, I assumed that every family did that…"

_"Oh, come on Sammy, what did I say about assuming_?"

"That's not the worst part."

"_What's worse than you missing something important_?"

"The reason the others were hospitalized is that they all became violent…"  
_"Violent?"_

"Yeah, it seems every time the witch…"

"_It's not a witch,"_ Dean interrupted sounded irritated. It now sounded like he was pacing, something he mostly did when he was nervous, or down right pissed.

"Whatever, anyway, when this… Thing converts two new victims something happens to the previous ones."

"_What_?" Dean stopped cold, Sam could tell. He could almost see his brother clinching the phone like a life preserver. See his brother's knuckles turning white, his hand shaking.

"The kids obviously go violent…"

"_Which earns them a one way ticket to a padded cell_," Dean muttered and Sam heard him sit down heavily in a chair.

"Yeah, and the adults, the kids' bodies, end up in a comatose like state."

"_As in IVs and feeding tubes and Catheters and what not_?" Sam knew how much his brother hated hospitals, especially when he had to be hooked up to machines. Dean had had his fair share of accidents that caused him to be hooked up like a robot; he obviously didn't want another one.

"Yeah."

"_How the hell could you miss this_?" Dean snapped and Sam could hear him pacing again. He was actually surprised Dean wasn't cleaning guns, another thing he did when he was irritated or nervous.

"I don't know, Dean. Maybe I'm tired; maybe I was just wanted to get this job down quickly…"

"_Or_ _maybe you're slipping. Okay, so we have until this Thing attacks another couple of victims to kill it…or her…before I am taken out of commission_."

"Yeah," Sam muttered running a hand across his face.

_"Well, did you at least find a pattern? A time frame?"_  
"No, the time changes. Sometimes its a couple days, other times it's a week. Ricky and Matt's attack happened three weeks after the one before. I just wish I knew what the hell we are dealing with."

_"Keep digging. I'll call you tomorrow morning; see what you've dug_ _up_."

"Okay. We'll figure this out Dean."  
"_Yeah, I hope so_." And the line went dead. Sam hung up his phone throwing it onto his bed. He turned around to see Alex watching a video on the computer, oblivious to what the Winchesters just talked about.

"Hey, Alex, can I use my computer," Sam asked walking over to him.

"Sure, Sam." Alex got to his feet, walking over to Dean's bed. He plopped down on it, pulling a book toward him. "What's this about?"

"Um, witchcraft," Sam replied sitting at his computer. He logged onto his favorite search engine and typed in "mythological lore."

"Like Harry Potter?" Alex questioned opening the book.

"Not even close kid," Sam replied clicking on a promising website.

"I'd much rather watch the movies than read the books. Books are stupid." _Another thing Dean and Alex have in common. Reading is like kryptonite to them._

"Books are actually… No, it couldn't be." Sam had just read something that could have blown the case wide open.

"What?" Alex asked throwing the book aside.

"I think I found something, something to do with your situation."

"Is it good?"

"I don't know. Can you hand me my phone?" Sam pointed to his bed, where his phone still laid. Alex picked it up and tossed it to him.

"Who are you calling?" Alex asked curiously.

"A friend of mine, his name's Bobby. I have to verify the facts, but I think I found out what attacked you, Dean, and the others." Sam ran through his contacts, hitting Bobby's name three down from Dean's.

"And what's that?" Sam held up a finger, cutting Alex's question off. Bobby answered on the third ring, "_This better be important, boy_."

"It is. Can witches leave behind spirits," Sam asked and waited for the answer. He really believed he had it now. He just had to be sure.

"_Sure, I mean they are people. Why_?" Bobby sounded genuinely worried for the Winchesters. He was like a father substitute for Sam and Dean. Without John they needed someone.

"No reason, thanks Bobby." Sam hung up thinking, _Gotcha bitch._


	4. Chapter 4

**If I had a nickel for the amount of times I don't own these characters, I would be probably fifty dollars richer (or more, I've never been good at math)…**

_**Supernatural**_

Dean closed Max's office door seconds before he heard the old man ascending the stairs. He retreated down the hall, to what he hoped was Alex's room. It wasn't hard to find the kid's room; there was a handwritten sign that said, 'Alex's room: Keep out Mom.' Dean opened the door, getting his first glimpse at the kid's lifestyle.

The first thing Dean noticed was the view. It looked out into a backyard, a huge lake shining in the sunlight. The next thing he noticed was the mess; the kid obviously wasn't a neat freak. Dean had a new respect for the kid; neatness was for girls and geeks like Sam. He figured he should be glad that Sam was so neat, they'd never find anything if it wasn't for him, but he really wasn't at that time.

He walked across the kid's clutter-clothes, games, shoes, and a few toys-and plopped down on the kid's bed. He laid back, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't believe that Sam could let something so important slip his mind. How could he not check the history of all the victims, how could he assume something after two cases, how could he be turning into Dean. _I am a bad influence. Jeez, that creepy principal was right_. He was thinking of a principal they had, Mrs. Bitz, or Mrs. Bitch according to Dean. She saw Dean and Sam at recess once; Dean was in the fifth grade, Sam in the first. Two third graders were picking on Sam, so Dean stepped in and beat the hell out of the kids. Bitz had the gym teacher pull Dean off the kids.

_Dean had found himself in the Bitz's office, staring at the old crown. She was pale, with a beak like nose and orange-ish eyes. Dean wished she was a demon so he could blow her away, but she wasn't. The batty old woman started lecturing him, "Fighting is not tolerated" "You could end up expelled" Dean remembered thinking, _Expel me; I won't be her long enough anyway_. Then the woman got in his face and said, "You are a bad influence on your brother. Sam has potential to do whatever he wants, but with you always with him he'll end up a low-life like you. Do you want that?" to which Dean replied, "There are a lot of things I want, but I can't always get them." "I won't tolerate this attitude from you, Winchester. You are nothing but another unintelligent student and I won't watch you corrupt your brother."_ She never did watch him corrupt Sam, they moved on from that school a day later. Dean always wondered if Bitz died or if she was still kicking. He sometimes still wanted to hunt the bitch down and put a bullet between her eyes. But that would be unethical and he would be in more trouble with the cops. Just thinking of the cops made him realize he was still screwed. That they were still after him; that St. Louis wasn't going to magically go away.

"Alex," he heard a voice say, causing him to jump. Heather knocked on the door. She opened the door before Dean could say anything. She was carrying a basket of laundry, the fresh smell of clean clothes filling the room.

"When are you planning on cleaning this room?" Heather deposited the basket on Alex's bed, looking around the mess.

"I was thinking between now and never," Dean replied sarcastically sitting up. He saw Heather roll her eyes, she didn't look annoyed just tired. "You know, "she said softly, sitting next to Dean, "you did scare me when you passed out like that."

"I'm sorry for that," Dean replied just telling the woman what she wanted to hear. He knew it wasn't Alex's fault, that blond "Thing" putting the whammy on him and the kid, but he also knew that Heather wouldn't believe that.

"Don't apologize, sweetie, this is not your fault. I just wish I knew who's it was." she put her arm around Dean, pulling him into a hug. He hadn't had a hug like that since he was four, from his own mother. He wished it would last, he missed the closeness him and his mother had, but it couldn't. Heather merely kissed the top of his head, let him go, and got to her feet.

"Do you want lunch?" Heather asked crossing the room to the door.

"I'm pretty full from the sandwiches," Dean replied softly averting his eyes from the woman's face.

"Okay, if you need anything just ask." And she was gone, the door closing behind her with a click. Dean leaned back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He heard a knock on the door, a tad louder than Heather's, and a familiar voice said, "Al, you want to learn to shoot or what?"

Dean checked the Pokémon wall clock on the kid's wall, it read eleven-forty. He vaguely remembered Max saying '_Come to my office, eleven-thirty, I'll teach you to shoot.'_ Dean figured he meant at night, but apparently he was wrong. He got to his feet, crossing the room. He opened the door to see the older man, holding a colt, smiling at him.

"Sure, Grandpa," Dean said softly and walked out of the room. He closed the door as Max said, "We need to take the back stairway; your mother is in the kitchen and will see us the moment we reach the bottom."

"There's a back stairway?" Dean asked not recalling seeing one when he entered the house.

"Leads to the library, which is more like your grandma's lair." _CG's got a lair, that's convenient,_ Dean thought but still followed Max down the hall to a rickety set of stairs. They reached the library, the darkest library Dean had ever seen.

"Please watch your step, Maggie is not one to keep her area clean." Sure enough, not even seven steps into the room Dean tripped over something. With reflexes he never thought an old geezer like Max could have, reflexes that were vaguely familiar to him, Max spun around and caught him before he face planted.

"Like I said," Max commented lightly, setting Dean back on his feet, "watch your step." They made it outside without another incident, the sun nearly blinding Dean. He squinted, trying to take in the view. There were trees, a ton of trees, scattered across the yard. A path was straight ahead, leading into the heart of the mini forest.

"We follow that path, your mom won't hear a shot," Max said and headed toward the path. Dean took a deep breath, took one more look at their surroundings, and quickly followed the old man. He couldn't help feeling mildly excited, he was about to do something he actually enjoyed. _This is going to be awesome_, Dean thought and sped up. For once in his life, even with time hanging over his head, he might actually enjoy a hunt.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sam exited the police station, a folder tucked under his arm, and headed toward the Impala. Alex was sitting in the passenger, wearing Dean's sunglasses, feet resting on the dash, asleep. Sam couldn't help but smirk, Dean really had to be here to see how much abuse the kid was putting the Impala through.

"Hey, Alex," Sam said softly as he got into the car. He shook the kid, gently, and he jerked awake with an audible grunt. "What, what," Alex said taking the sunglasses off putting his feet back on the floor.

"Have a nice nap?" Sam asked putting the folder on the seat. It was stifling in the suit he was wearing, so he loosened the tie.

"Yeah, what did you get?" Alex sounded so much like Dean that Sam had to keep reminding himself it wasn't his brother.

"Death reports from the past thirty years. I never realized how easy Dean's job is, just flirting with the receptionist to get what we need. He's always bitching about how much work…"

"Sam," Alex said cutting the hunter's rant off.

"Sorry, so there are pictures of all the dead attached to the records. You just tell me if you recognize any of them, okay?"

"Then what?"

"You'll see." Sam wasn't sure how the kid would take it, if he found out they had to unbury the body, salt the remains, and burn them. At eight, he'd either find it awesome-Dean did-or disgusting.

"Okay," Alex murmured not entirely satisfied with the answer. He picked up the folder as Sam started the Impala. They started driving down the street, Alex opening the folder. He looked at all the pictures. He immediately dismissed the men-the blonde was definitely a girl-sticking them on the seat next to him.

Sam watched the kid flip through all the girls, sitting the rejects in the male pile. Sam felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when Alex came down to the last two. If neither of those two were who attacked him then they were back at square one. Luck must have been on his side

-_First time in a freaking long time_-because when Alex reached the last photo he said, "This is her." He handed Sam the picture and death report. Sam's eyes briefly left the road as he looked at the woman. Even in the copied black and white photo he could tell she had blond hair. She was wearing her hair up in the picture, her eyes were light.

"Amelia Nethers," Sam mumbled looking at her name. She was buried in the local cemetery. "It says she was beaten to death."

"Why?" Alex asked taking the pages back from Sam.

"People are sick, that's why," Sam replied as he pulled into the motel parking lot. He checked his watch before getting out of the car. "So, it's like six hours until sunset, you want to get something to eat."

"Sure, but why does it matter how many hours 'til sunset?" Alex was eyeing Sam cautiously.

"I'll explain while we eat. Just let me change and we'll go," Sam replied evasively and headed into the motel room, leaving Alex looking slightly more uneasy than before. He was changed and ready in a few minutes, heading back toward the parking lot. He made sure the door was locked and headed toward the car. Alex still looked unsure whether to trust Sam or not-Sam didn't blame him, it'd scare him too if some stranger wasn't exactly honest with him. _Better to live in blissful ignorance than fearful truths_, he thought as he got in the car.

They drove to the diner in silence, Alex looking out the window. When they reached a small place called _Rona's Eatery_, they got out and entered the establishment. Sam led Alex to a booth in the back, away from everyone.

A portly woman of fifty walked up to them carrying two menus. She handed both Sam and Alex one and said, "Welcome to _Rona's_ do y'all want something to drink?" she pulled an order book from her apron and a pen from behind her ear.

"Can I have a chocolate milk, ma'am," Alex asked glancing at Sam as if asking permission. Sam rolled his eyes, but still nodded. _Apparently, his mother runs his life a little too much._

"Sure thing, Sweetie," the woman said. Sam caught sight of her nametag as Fern turned to him and said, "What would you like, Sugar?"

"Uh, coffee please," Sam replied as he opened his menu.

"Okay, one chocolate milk and one coffee." Fern wrote the beverages down and waddled away from them. When she was out of earshot, Sam put his menu down and bent over the table to say, "Alex, we've had this discussion. You are technically twenty-seven-years old; you don't need my permission to do things."

"Yeah but my mom says…"

"Is your mom here?" Sam asked looking around. Alex mimicked him and then shook his head. "What are you thinking about ordering?"

"Um…" Alex looked over the menu his eyes landing on the desserts. "Ice cream." He grinned, a smile Sam was used to seeing from his brother-when he saw a girl he liked.

"Okay, but why not order something else and then ice cream," Sam suggested trying to sound less like a parent and more like a negotiator.

"You said I didn't need your permission to do things. So, wouldn't me ordering ice cream result in my decision, not yours?" _Damn, he backed me into that one_, Sam thought, but came back with, "Yes, but wouldn't a…" Sam looked over the menu and said, "…a burger be better and then ice cream?"

"I guess," Alex replied and then added, "but just ice cream would be better."

Before Sam could respond Fern was back with their drinks. She set Alex's chocolate milk and Sam's coffee onto the table and took out her order book again. "What can I get you, Sweetie Pie?" she asked looking at Alex first. Alex looked at the menu. Before he could order ice cream, Sam knew the shifty look from when Dean pulled it, Sam said, "He'll have a hamburger and fries. I'll have the grilled chicken sandwich." He pulled the menu out of Alex's grasp and handed both of them to Fern.

"Okay, Honey," Fern said looking curiously at Sam then at Alex. She then shuffled away from them, to the cook's window.

"I thought…" Alex began to whine.

"I said you could have ice cream later, not now," Sam snapped. "Keep up this attitude and you may not get ice cream at all."

"You're mean," Alex mumbled crossing his arms across his chest. He glared at the table tears forming in his eyes. Sam rolled his eyes but otherwise stayed quiet. When their food arrived Alex just picked at his burger stuffing some of it in his napkin when he thought Sam wasn't looking.

"Do you want to know why sunset is important?" Sam asked finally tired of Alex's sulking.

"Is it important?" Alex grumbled.

"It might be, but you have to eat before I tell you," Sam said slowly. It had always worked for him and Dean. When they were younger and didn't want to eat John would ask them if they wanted to hear about the latest hunt. Dean being Dean would say, _"Yeah, please tell me_._"_ while Sam would nod and John would say, _"Okay, but you have to eat first_._"_ John rarely had to pull the trick on Dean, though, who eats pretty much anything, but it always worked. Sam just hoped it worked on Alex.

"You promise to tell me," Alex sniffed looking up at Sam.

"I promise," Sam replied.

"Cross your heart," Alex said softly.

"Cross my heart," Sam replied and ran a finger across his chest in an X to show the kid he meant it. Alex smirked and said, "Okay." and after that the kid ate every bite of his lunch. When he was done eating he put his hands on the table, fingers intertwined, and said, "Why?"

"You can't tell anyone, do you understand me," Sam said looking around for eavesdroppers.

"I won't tell anyone," Alex said and faked zipping his mouth shut.

"Okay, well we need to go to the cemetery tonight," Sam replied in a lower voice. Alex paled slightly and said in a scared whisper, "Why?"

"The woman who did this to you, well she's a ghost."

"A ghost?" Dean's voice went up three octaves. Sam was actually convinced he'd never hear his brother sound like that. Alex brought out a new side to Dean Winchester.

"Yes, and in order to fix this problem I have to unbury that Amelia Nethers person, salt her body, and then burn it." Alex was so pale now that Dean's freckles were the most prominent feature on his face. His green eyes were swimming in tears of fear and he was shaking.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked curiously suddenly worried for the kid's sanity.

"C…can I get b…back on that," Alex said in a hoarse whisper. Sam nodded and finished off his sandwich. He signaled for the check, Alex not even asking about ice cream.

When the check came Sam got to his feet and walked over to the cashier. He paid and walked back over to Alex. The kid hadn't moved, still pale as could be, staring at the table.

"Come on, Alex," Sam said and the kid automatically stood up. He started walking toward the door, leaving Dean's jacket in the booth. Sam grabbed both his jacket and Dean's and hurriedly ran after the kid.

Alex was sitting in the Impala, face in his hands, shoulders shaking, crying. Sam bit his lip suddenly realizing that he had done the same thing Dean did to him when he was younger. He had taken what the kid believed was fake, all the reassurances that the monsters under his bed were all in his head, and stomped on them. He had essentially broken the little kid's innocent spirit. Alex Lawrence would probably never be the same again.

Sam got in the car throwing both jackets in the backseat. He wasn't sure if he should comfort the kid or not-Alex was probably more afraid of the messenger than the message. So, instead of having-what Dean would call-a "chick-flick moment," Sam started the Impala and drove down the street.

By the time they reached the motel, Alex had calmed down. He was still scared, Sam could tell, but he wasn't crying anymore. His eyes were locked straight ahead, staring out the window.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked again. He was worried the kid would go into shock or something that would result in his brother's body shutting down. Alex replied by puking all over the Impala. His lunch and his meager breakfast covering the floor, the leather seats, and Dean's clothes.

"I'll take that as a no," Sam mumbled opening the door. Alex stepped out of the car, slightly less pale, and said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Just go get cleaned up and I'll clean this up." Alex disappeared into motel. Sam looked at the mess and sighed. _Dean would be pissed if he could see this_; he couldn't help thinking as he went in search of a bucket. He had a lot of work ahead of him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Not mine, never will be…**

_**Supernatural**_

Max watched his grandson curiously. He couldn't remember the last time Alex was able to shoot like he did. Normally the kid could hit one or two targets, but today he hit all ten.

"You been practicing without me," Max asked and watched the kid spin around, dropping the gun on his foot.

"N…no," Dean replied bending down to pick up the gun. He knew not to say a word about his situation. He didn't want to sit through child psychologists like Matt did. Shrinks, in Dean's opinion, were just nosy people with a degree.

"I was just asking because you have gotten better since the last time we did this," Max asked eyeing Dean more cautiously. "A lot better."

"I'm just having a good day," Dean said averting his eyes. Dean could lie when the situation allowed it-meaning if he actually planned the lie (or Sam had planned the lie). Under pressure on the other hand…

"Right…" Max seemed to study Dean for a while then said, "Are you even Alex?" it was such a casual question that it peaked Dean's interest by tenfold. He looked into the old guy's eyes, a pair of wary eyes he grew up to know from his father, and things seemed to click into place. The guy's reflexes looked so familiar; he seemed to see everything at the same time… Dean knew exactly what the guy was, "You're a hunter?"

Instead of the guy denying it or saying something stupid like, "Of animals, yes," Max Lawrence said, "Yeah, and you are, too."

"Yeah," Dean replied. "So, you know what's happening to these people? How they are being switched…"

"Yeah, I've been following the case for a while. I actually prayed you… Alex wasn't another victim, but I guess my prayers weren't answered." It took all of Dean's self-control not to roll his eyes, he just didn't get why people resorted to religion in times of need. _As if it really works_, he thought bitterly.

"Did you know my…? Did you know two hunters had come into town?" Dean changed his question last minute. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to talk about his dad with a complete stranger. Plus, the guy didn't exactly know his name, so he had no clue if he knew his dad or not.

"What's your name, kid?" Max asked curiously. He had his arms crossed, a wary look in his eyes.

"Winchester, sir. Dean Winchester," Dean replied not sure if he should offer his hand or not.

"Winchester? You're not, by any chance, related to John Winchester are you?" Max's look had gone from wary to suspicious fast.

"He was my dad," Dean mumbled averting his eyes again.

Max hesitated for a brief moment, Dean had a feeling he was about to ask why he spoke in the past tense while referring to his dad, but all Max said was, "I was sorry to hear he died." Dean looked up, his face in a mask of shock. "I hear things. I'm not entirely useless."

"So, you knew my dad." Getting off the morbid topic of his dad's death was probably better than dwelling on it anymore, so he changed the topic to "John: The living years."

"Worked with him once, about fifteen years ago. Didn't really talk to him much, Caleb dragged him along. He was there for backup, not a social call."

"My dad say that?" Dean asked curiously.

"Yeah, why?"

"It sounds like him," Dean replied. "So, Caleb…"

"A close friend of mine, really close, my nephew close," Max said sadly. It was his turn to avert his eyes, looking anywhere but at Dean.

Deciding it was better to lighten the mood, Dean said, "Do you know Bobby…?"

"Singer? Hell yeah, I know him. He's a riot, especially when you get too much whiskey in him." A slow smile appeared on Max's lips as he was taken down memory lane. He was brought back with a nasty thud when reality caught up with him. "We need to figure out what is causing this."

"My brother thinks it's a witch," Dean commented leaning against a tree.

"It ain't a witch, I can tell you that. Ain't a witch been in Georgia in fifteen years. Her name was Amelia Nethers. She was a born witch, her mother selling her soul for the black magic."

"What happened to her?"

"She'd help out now and again, remedies for little things. Never did an evil thing towards anyone, until one night…"

Dean settled into the tree, listening intently to the story. "What happened?" he asked curiously.

"There was this man, Nathan Andrews who believed that he was the ruler of the town. His daddy owned half the businesses, employed most of the people, was almost as powerful as the mayor. So, Nathan in turn, believed that gave him a higher power over everyone. He was in love with this girl, Penny Miles, but she was set to marry her high school sweet heart, Jeremy Willis.

"Now, instead of admitting defeat that Penny would never love him Nathan went to see Amelia. He asked her if she could put a spell on Penny, make her love him. Amelia flat out refused, told Nathan that she didn't do those types of spells, and kindly told him to leave. Nathan wouldn't have it, but he left acting like a perfect gentleman.

"Far from being a gentleman, he went and got his three buddies. They all got drunk, drove to Amelia little cottage in the woods, kicked her door in, and beat her to death. She didn't even raise a hand to defend herself, keeping her word that she'd never use a bad spell against anyone." Dean was so caught up in the story that he didn't realize Max stopped talking until the old guy said, "Nathan and his minions were charged with murder, carted off to jail. His daddy lost everything and ended up moving on, that was after Nathan's mother died of heartbreak."

"Can witches be spirits," he asked suddenly something clicking into place. _Maybe Sasquatch was right after all_, he thought wearily. He pushed himself away from the tree, pacing back and forth.

"Why?"

"Has anything happened recently, that may have pissed off Amelia's spirit? Was her cottage destroyed…?"

"No, but it is being remodeled. A local historian wants to make it into a museum. You don't think Amelia…?"

"She's trying to be helpful to people, give them their youth or make them older, but she's probably still pissed about being killed that she's hurting these people, too. Putting the adults into comas, making the kids violent… Max, where is Amelia buried?"

"She's buried at the cemetery, why?"

"Do you have a cell phone," Dean asked stopping in mid step. Max dug a simple flip phone from his pocket and handed it to Dean without question. He flipped the phone open and dialed a familiar number.

"Hey, Sasquatch, you were half right…"

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sam had just gotten all the puke out of the Impala and was letting it dry when his phone rang. He dug it out to see Maxwell Lawrence's name on the screen.

"Dean?" he answered worriedly.

"_Hey, Sasquatch, you were half right_," Dean said sounding half amused, half irritated. "_It is a witch, she's…_"

"…just not alive," Sam finished for him. Very few things surprised Dean, this did. His brother didn't speak for at least a few seconds, then he said, "_You already know_?" he sounded vastly disappointed. He obviously thought he had one up on Sam, that he had found something his brother didn't, but he was sorely disappointed.

"Yeah, I figured it out while I was searching for possible creatures. I was wondering why not anyone but the… You know what, forget it. I just found out about her, then I went to the police station and got the receptionist to give me the names of any deaths that occurred in the past thirty years, and Alex pointed out…"

"_Amelia Nethers_," Dean said at the same time Sam did.

"Yeah, how did…?"

"_Max_ _Lawrence is a hunter Sam, a freaking hunter. We have help here_."

Sam was quit for a moment, actually thinking that this was a bad idea trusting another hunter when a voice came back to him.___ "__After he left I studied up, researched and found some other hunters, I keep in touch with a couple. I was actually surprised when I found out John died from a hunter in Georgia"___

___ "Dude, ask him if he knows Mac Taylor?" Sam asked slowly. He knew his brother was curious about the request, but he asked without a question. He replied with a suspicious, "__Yeah, he does, how the hell did you know?____"_

___ "I just do. Look, forget how I know, I'll explain later. Can you get Max to get you here, like now?"_

___ "__Yeah, why____?"_

___ "Well, I thought maybe you'd like to be there when we burn Amelia's remains," Sam responded casually._

___ "__As much as I'd love to be there, I don't think I can____," Dean said just as a voice said, "__Alexander Maxwell Lawrence what the hell are you doing____?"_

___ "__Gotta go____," Dean said and the line went dead. Sam turned his phone off wondering if the woman was Alex's mother or not. He stashed his phone in his pocket, closed the Impala's door and picked up the bucket. He took it out back of the hotel, next to the hose the owner had let him use, and emptied the contents into the grass. He cleaned out the bucket and set it against the side of the building. That's where she told him to set it, so that's where he set it._

___ He headed back toward the room, opening the door to see Alex lying on Dean's bed staring at the wall. He didn't respond to Sam's entrance, and at first Sam thought he was sleeping. Then he heard an almost inaudible sniff._

___ Sam was still torn between comforting the kid and just leaving him alone. Dean would never have allowed Sam near him if he was having an emotional breakdown. __Hell, he probably wouldn't even let me see his emotional breakdown____, Sam thought slightly frustrated. He remembered his brother's last displayed break down, on the side of the road, right after they had just fought a zombie. __That's one for the history books, an honest to God, Dean Winchester heart-to-heart.____ It made Sam regret bugging his brother about what he was thinking._

___ "You know," Alex said making Sam jump. He didn't think the kid was going to say anything._

___ "What," Sam said encouraging the kid to continue._

___ "My grandpa always told me stories, about hunting vampires, werewolves, ghosts, demons, and all the other supernatural stuff. But I always believed that they were made up. You know, just stories. Then I ended up switching bodies with your brother and I realized that maybe there were some truths to what he said…"_

___ "Then I told you about burning the ghost's body," Sam said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed._

___ "Yeah," Alex murmured. He still hadn't turned to look at Sam, just kept talking to the wall._

___ "If you don't want to go tonight, you don't have to. I would completely understand if you wanted to stay here. It's a lot to take in and maybe if you had time to let it set…"_

___ "Letting it set won't help much, Sam. Besides I want to see this through, I want to be there to help as much as I can. Even if it means holding the flashlight." Alex sat up, looking directly at Sam. He had changed Dean's ACDC tee-shirt for a plain black one. Sam wondered what he did with the other one. Instead of asking, knowing that would just make him sound very OCD and insensitive, he asked, "Are you sure?"_

___ "Yeah, we all gotta face our fears sometime," Alex said calmly sounding more like Dean than ever before. It scared Sam to know how much the kid had changed in just an hour. __Where ever we go we break the kid's spirit. Sari, Michael, Lucas, Tyler … We're just a disease toward kids, something that steals what little innocence they have and crushes it._

___"If you're sure," Sam muttered trying to keep the bitterness and the worry out of his voice._

___ "As sure as I'll ever be," Alex replied and took a deep breath. "So, when do we go?"_

___ "Just after dark. The cover of the night keeps us from getting caught easily."_

___ "I kind of figured that," Alex murmured causing Sam to go red with embarrassment. He hadn't meant to question the kid's intelligence. Clearing his throat, getting to his feet, he said, "So, in a few hours you'll have your life back and we'll be a distant memory."_

___ "Wasn't much of a life to begin with," Alex said so quietly that Sam wasn't sure he really said it. They both fell silent, neither one sure of what to say. Sam checked his watch, sighed, and crossed the room. He found Dean's shirt in the pile of clothes they had already started, so he emptied his bag and collected all the dirty clothes._

___ "I'm going to do laundry, clean Dean's shirt before he realizes you puked on it, you want to come with?"_

___ Alex studied Sam for a moment, trying to decide if he should continue trusting him or just keep his distance. Seeing something that Sam could only guess the eight-year-old deemed as good, Alex slid off the bed and said, "Okay, but can I put the quarters in the machines?"_

___ "Yeah," Sam said with a smile and allowed Alex to leave the room first. He followed him thinking, __Of course, like most kids, innocence or not, they bounce back without a problem._


	6. Chapter 6

**I own nothing…**

_**Supernatural**_

Dean wasn't sure who was in more trouble, him or Max. Instead of dealing with him, Heather had sent him to Alex's room with a promise of talking later. Dean just laid back on the bed, watching the sun set. He knew for a fact that Sam and Alex, or just Sam because he really didn't want the kid getting hurt-_I don't need another scar, I really don't-_would be on their way to the graveyard by now.

He really wished he could call Sam, find out what he was doing about Alex, but the only phone he had access to was in Max's office, and Heather had been yelling at her father in that office since twelve-thirty: a good chunk of time. He could risk sneaking down to the kitchen, but then he'd have to face CG and she wasn't exactly someone he wanted to run into right now.

He really hated being on lockdown, it made him remembered one of the two times John had actually grounded him…

_John had left the boys alone, like always. Dean was in charge like always. It was the last week of school before Christmas break and some stoner kid named Harris Jordan decided to throw a party. He invited the entire junior class, all one-hundred and fifty of them. Dean decided to go, but he couldn't leave Sam alone._

"_Dude, I'm almost thirteen. I'll be fine for a few hours," Sam said looking up from a novel he had to read for school._

"_But…"_

"_If you want to go to this party then go," Sam had said. Dean just couldn't leave Sam, so they compromised and Dean brought Sam to the party. His little brother just followed him into the party, no one asked any questions._

"_Stay here, on this couch, and we'll leave in a few hours," Dean told a sulking Sam. Sam just rolled his eyes and started reading __The Catcher and the Rye__ again. Dean had been gone for less than an hour, forty-five minutes tops, when he found his brother by the keg._

"_What…what are you doing?" he asked totally stunned._

"_They told me it was non-alcoholic," Sam replied his words slurred. Dean collected his brother and his book and ushered his staggering thirteen-year-old drunk brother out of the house. Sam's puke seemed to have waited until they were in the Impala before he let loose everything he had eaten or drank in several hours._

"_Dad's totally gonna kill me," Dean had muttered. He had planned to have the car cleaned, have Sam sobered up, have everything mostly normal before his dad came back from the hunt. Except, his dad had gotten done with the hunt early, a day early, and was waiting for the boys when they got home._

_He had panicked when they weren't there, so he called Caleb, Pastor Jim, Bobby, all three of them. They had all went looking for the boys, and when Dean pulled up John was livid. He started screaming about not leaving the motel room, about what could get them… It probably would have gone on for a while longer, but one look at Sam changed John's tactic quickly._

"_What the hell happened to him," John screamed as Sam puked all over the Impala again. Averting his eyes, talking in a monotone voice, Dean told his dad that Sam had gotten drunk at a party they went to…_

_The consequences of one night of fun was three weeks of weapons cleaning, no Impala for two months, and no hunting for two weeks…_

He was brought back to reality by a knock on the door. He sat up just as Heather walked into the room. She looked irritated, but seemed to have cooled down since she last talked to him. She crossed the room, sitting right next to him.

"Grandpa tells me that that was the first time he took you shooting. I don't believe him so I decided to ask you. Was that the first time, and remember I'll know if you're lying." She looked directly into Dean's eyes, waiting for him to answer.

"It was the first time," he said truthfully. For all intents and purposes, he wasn't Alex so he didn't technically lie to Heather. Max had never taken him, Dean Winchester, out shooting.

"Good, keep it that way. Dinner will be in fifteen minutes," Heather replied and got to her feet. She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She had fear in her eyes, something she was trying to hide from her inexperienced son, but was caught by the experienced hunter. Heather Lawrence didn't want Alex to be a hunter anymore than she wanted to be born one, which meant her and her brother were raised similar, if not exactly the same, as Dean and Sam were. _Weird_, he thought lying back on the bed. The sun had successful dipped behind the clouds making the sky dark. _Wonder what Sam's doing?_

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sam pulled the Impala up to the graveyard's locked gate. He looked over at Alex, who had fallen asleep. Asleep it wasn't hard for Sam to believe that it wasn't his brother. Dean slept so lightly, the slightest sound woke him up. But Alex… The kid slept heavy, slept long, and couldn't be woken up. So Sam gave up trying to wake the kid after two half-hearted attempts. He reached across Alex to the glove compartment, extracted the flashlight Dean kept in there, and got out of the Impala. He closed the door quietly and headed toward the trunk.

He opened the trunk, pulling the secret compartment up. He used Dean's sawed off to hold the compartment up as he dug around for the supplies he needed using the flashlight to help him see.

Dean was many things, but neat he was not. It took a good five minutes to find everything he needed. Sam stored the salt, lighter fluid, shotgun loaded with rock salt, and matches in the green duffle bag they always used. Before he closed the compartment he pocketed some rock salt shells. He then grabbed a shovel, and closed the trunk door.

He walked toward the gate, studying it slightly. It had to be seven feet tall, eight inches taller than him. He looked behind him, sure that if he ran fast enough he could climb it. A plan in mind, he tossed the bag and shovel over the fence, pocketed the flashlight, and backed up a good eight or nine feet. He took a deep breath and sprinted toward the fence. He jumped up, grabbing as close to the top as he could, and pulled himself over. He climbed the fence like his dad taught him, landing on the other side almost silently. He had a feeling Dean would have made the landing perfectly, not making a sound at all. _I've gotta stop comparing myself to Dean_, Sam thought as he collected the duffle bag and the shovel.

He pulled the flashlight out of his pocket, turning it on. The beam of light swept across the graveyard, shining on headstones. Sam started walking, checking every headstone he passed.

After several years of rooting around graveyards, it still hadn't gotten better. Sam was still weirded out around the dead. He remembered when he was little, about thirteen, when his dad and Dean took him on his first salt and burn. He thought the dead were going to come out of the ground and drag him back underground with them. Dean told him to not worry about it, that if any corpses came for him he'd fight them off tooth and nail. It reassured Sam some then, it still did now.

He'd never admit it to Dean, but when Dean was with him, Sam knew the corpses weren't going to pull him underground with them. Dean wasn't, however, there this time. Sam was all alone and the old fear starting creeping up on him. He tried to ignore it as he walked deeper into the graveyard

He found the grave in the farthest corner of the cemetery. It took all his willpower not to keep looking over his shoulder. He kept expecting something to come out of the ground and attack him. _Get a grip, Sammy. You're starting to sound paranoid_, a voice, sounding exactly like Dean's, said.

Shaking his head, pushing aside his petty fears, he set the flash light and duffle down. He put the shovel into the ground, jumped on it, and felt the point dig into the ground. He pulled a shovel full of earth out of the ground and threw it over his shoulder. He couldn't help thinking, _that's one_, before he continued.

He kept up the digging, stripping his jacket off after three feet. Sweat was dripping down his face and back, but he ignored it as he continued digging. Five feet in he discarded his sweatshirt, adding it to his forgotten jacket. He had just tossed another shovel full of dirt into his huge pile when he heard a noise, something that sounded like a cough. He scrambled out of the hole, dove for the duffle, extracted the shotgun, and aimed at the noise. He was seconds from shooting before a voice said, "I don't think you want to shoot me, Kid."

"Hello," he said. A light shined in his eyes, nearly blinding him. He made out a silhouette of a man a few inches shorter than him. Then the guy lowered the flashlight and said, "Your brother said you might be out here."

"Dean? You talked to Dean?" he realized he was talking to Alex's grandfather and said, "Are you Max Lawrence?"

"Yeah, you must be Sam. Before my daughter made your brother go to bed he told me to look for you. Told me that you'd probably be at the graveyard. So, here I am. Figured you could use some help."

"It would have helped a while ago, but I'm almost done," Sam replied scratching the back of his head.

"And she hasn't shown up, yet." Max looked mildly surprised. "I'd at least think she would put up a fight…"

"Maybe she wants to move on," Sam responded doubtfully as he picked up the shovel. He went back to digging, Max Lawrence holding the flashlight, and soon after hit the coffin. He looked up at the older guy and said, "I found her." He tossed the shovel out of the hole and crouched down to try and pry the thing open. It gave after a few tries.

He pulled himself out of the hole and walked over to the duffle bag. He extracted the lighter fluid, the salt, and the matches. He walked back to the hole, looking down at the skeletal remains of Amelia Nethers.

"Kinda feels sad, watching little Amelia getting treated like a vengeful spirit," Max said softly shining his flashlight down at the remains.

"Yeah," Sam murmured. He then poured salt over her body, followed by the lighter fluid. He struck a match and tossed it in, watching the bones go up in flames. The flames danced around the remains, almost like little hell demons doing a ritual. Sam watched the flames until they died down.

He jumped back into the hole, closing the coffin door. It took less time to cover the grave than it did to unbury it. Once the grave looked slightly less un-dug, Sam collected all his supplies, put his sweatshirt and jacket back on, and started toward the entrance.

"How the hell did you get in here? I doubt you climbed that gate…"

"Kid, I'm not as old as I look," Max interrupted looking slightly hurt.

"I'm sorry I didn't…"

"Just messing with you, Kid," Max said grinning. "I picked the lock. It wasn't hard." They reached the entrance in mere minutes. Max looked over at the car, eyes landing directly at Dean's sleeping form.

"How do we know it worked?" he asked his eyes flicking back to Sam who was closing the gates.

"I don't know. Maybe, it has to wear off. Maybe they'll be back to normal by tomorrow," Sam said heading toward the Impala.

"Possibly," Max murmured. He headed toward his own car, his hand on the handle. He looked over at Sam and said, "Alex was in good hands with you."

"What?" Sam looked over at the older guy, a small smile on his face.

"I'm just saying, my grandson-whether he was your brother or not-was in good hands with you." and with that, Max got in his car and drove away. Sam watched him go, a curious look on his face, and then got in the Impala. He started the engine and pulled onto the street, driving toward the motel.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sunlight streamed in through the window shining through Dean's closed eyelids. He didn't want to get up, wanted to keep sleeping, but he was figuring Sam would start bitching about how they didn't have time to sleep all day. So with a heavy heart, he opened his eyes and sat up. What he saw was definitely not the motel.

He was still in Alex's house, in Alex's room, in Alex's body. "Shit," he murmured pushing the covers off himself. He got out of bed, checking the clock. It was seven-thirty, seven-thirty in the freaking morning. "How am I still this kid?"

"Alex," a woman's voice said and Heather entered the room. She looked wide awake-_apparently she's an early bird_.

"Yeah," Dean said trying to keep the disappointing anger out of his voice. He had really hoped he was going to be himself again, not this kid.

"I wanted to know if you were awake. Get dressed, breakfast will be ready in a few." Heather then walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Dean sighed; knowing complaining about it wouldn't make things better, and crossed the room to the kid's closet.

After ten minutes of digging through the kid's wardrobe, he finally came across an actual pair of jeans, a plain white tee-shirt, and a white flannel. Feeling like the country boy he was raised to be, he pulled on Alex's black high tops and exited the room. Max was waiting for him right outside the door.

"Did it work?" he asked not needing to elaborate on what he meant.

"No," Dean said dully.

"What," Max hissed paling slightly. "I thought…"

"Maybe it has to wear off…"

"You sound like your brother," Max murmured. They started down the hall, heading toward the stairs.

"You talk to Sam last night?" Dean asked trying to keep up with Max's quick, long strides.

"Briefly, and I know for a fact he took care of Amelia's body. So, maybe it's like you said 'it has to wear off.'"

"Let's frigging pray it does," Dean mumbled and followed Max down the stairs. They walked into the kitchen, Heather and CG just setting the table. Dean eyes swept across the food, landing on the bacon.

"Hungry, sweetie," Heather asked sitting at the table.

"Yeah," Dean said and sat down, too. If the breakfast was as good as the dinner he didn't mind staying Alex for a while longer. He piled his plate with eggs, bacon, a couple waffles, and some sausage. He poured himself some orange juice after Max shook his head at the idea of having coffee.

Heather watched him curiously as Dean ate the food on his plate. After a few seconds of studying him she said, "I was thinking about taking you to school today. You know, instead of letting you ride the bus."

"School," Dean said with his mouth full of bacon.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Heather said wearily. Then said, "Yes, school."

"Okay," Dean mumbled after swallowing his food. "If I have to I will." And he finished his breakfast in silence. He didn't quite take in what the others were talking about, too preoccupied with the pure fact that he had to go to school. _I thought I was done with that crap_, he thought thinking about his own graduation-or the after party. _That was great._

Heather had him out the door not even ten minutes after he finished breakfast. He was carrying Alex's brown backpack over one shoulder, wondering what the hell the kid had in it to make it so damn heavy.

Dean automatically headed toward the passenger seat, but Heather cleared her throat making him stop. His hand was on the handle, ready to open the door. He sighed in frustration but got in back.

"Sulking won't help anything," Heather said closing the car door. She started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. _Twenty-seven-years-old and can't even sit up front. This damn spell or whatever better damn well lift soon_.

They reached the school before Dean knew it. Heather allowed him to get out. Dean slammed the door and headed toward the building, other kids already heading inside.

"Hey," Heather called causing Dean to turn around. She had her window down, looking at him. "Have a good day, sweetie. I love you." Dean nodded and headed into the building. He wasn't sure when exactly school started, sometime between eight-something and nine. Dean barely paid attention to when school started when he went, he rarely wanted to go in the first place but John made him. _"If there's one thing I will not miss out on is my kids having a high school education,"_ Dean could almost hear his dad say.

"Alex, what's up," a kid's voice said making Dean jump. He turned to see a kid of about roughly eight shorter than Alex. He was wearing all black, right down to his sneakers. He reminded Dean of someone, but he couldn't quite remember who.

"Wondering when your weak ass was going to come back. I thought, you know, with you being too busy fainting like a girl you'd think you wouldn't want to show your face around here anymore." And with that the kid pushed Dean down and ran away, toward the back door and the playground.

"Asshole," Dean whispered pushing himself to his feet. He headed down the hallway, still trying to remember who the kid reminded him of. He let it go briefly when he realized he had no idea where Alex's locker was. Trying not to panic and look like a complete idiot, he headed down the hallway. Luckily, the school believed the kids were morons because all the lockers had the kids' names on them.

"Sweet," Dean mumbled when he found Alex's name. He stored the kid's bag in his locker then headed outside. He wasn't even seven inches outside the door before he tripped over something. He landed on the ground, scraping his hand and knee on the blacktop. Someone laughed and walked away.

Dean scrambled to his feet in time to see the kid who had pushed him retreating to a group of his friends. Dean wanted nothing more than to stomp up to the kid and beat his brains in, but he didn't think Alex needed the trouble. So swallowing his pride, Dean sighed and headed toward the swings.

Three girls were hanging out by the swings, giggling like most eight or nine-year-olds did. Dean ignored them as he settled on one of the swings, staring at the ground. When Dean was a kid he hated recess, he hated the pure fact that a bunch of kids had to socialize outside in various temperatures while the teachers did things like smoke in the lounge or whatever else they did. _School should just start when the kids arrive. Then I don't have to sit out here_, Dean thought.

"Alex, are you listening," a voice said making him look up. A little girl, around Alex's age, was staring at him. She had dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders, her blue eyes sparkled along with the smile on her face, and she was tapping Dean on the shoulder.

"Yeah," he said wondering why the girl was looking at him with a face full of puppy love. _Oh please don't let the kid have a girlfriend. He's eight, what could they possible do._

"I wanted to see if you were okay," she said sitting on the swing next to him. "I heard you collapsed in the hallway the other day."

"I'm fine," Dean said. It was like talking to everyone else. There was no need to elaborate on what happened he didn't want to seem crazy.

"Oh," the girl said looking slightly hurt, her smile had fallen. Dean must have sounded meaner than he wanted. He didn't want to have her cry, he couldn't stand it when girls cried-it made him feel like he did something wrong.

"I'm sorry. It's just people keep asking me about that day, asking me if I'm okay, and I'm just sick of it. I'm fine, honest."

"Oh, okay," she said and smiled again. "So, I wanted to let you know that you can see my homework from yesterday. You missed an entire new section in math and I don't know if Belmont would actually take the time to teach it to you. You know how much she hates kids."

"Does she now," Dean said absentmindedly. A slight dizzy sensation hit him but was gone before he could pinpoint the cause.

"Are you okay," the girl asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Dean said softly as a distant bell rang. The little girl got off the swing, waiting for Dean to follow. He stood up and nearly fell over. He grabbed the swing chain to stop himself from falling.

"Alex," the girl said her voice sounding so far away. "Alex, are you okay." Dean slipped to the ground unable to stay standing anymore. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was the girl calling for help.


	7. Chapter 7

**Still aren't mine…**

_**Supernatural**_

Sam heard his phone ringing distantly. He opened his eyes, groping around the nightstand for his phone. He picked it up, looking blurrily at the name, and answered with a, "How did you get this number?"

"Your brother gave it to me," Max Lawrence replied, "but that's not the point. Dean collapsed, Amelia's still out there…" Sam sat up quickly, feeling a slight head rush. He ignored it and hissed, "What?" he stole a glance at Alex who was still asleep on the bed next to his.

"Dean collapsed at the school today. Alex's little friend Jenny Miller said he was talking to her then ended up crashing to the ground. I'm at the hospital, now.

"What's Alex doing?"

"Sleeping, but he's gonna get up soon…"

"And most definitely attack you. Look, normally I'd say that you were okay. My grandson can't hit very hard in his own body, but in your brother's body he's going to be dangerous."

"I know," Sam mumbled knowing damn well what it felt like to get hit by Dean. It hurt, a lot.

"Look, Sam, you do realize we have to go back to the drawing board right. I mean, we are back at square one. So, that also means you have to find a way to keep Alex out of the way until we fix this."

"Yeah, I know," Sam breathed as he crept out of bed. He stole a glance at Alex, who was still asleep, and slipped outside the motel room. He stuck to the sidewalk, his shoeless feet unable to tolerate the feel of rocks.

"What are you planning to do?" Max asked curiously.

"I don't know, call you later," Sam replied and hung up the phone. He hit himself in the head with his phone softly. Before he could go deep into his pity party he heard a noise from the motel room. He tensed up; ready to lock the motel room door and let Alex just destroy the room, but thought better of it. He grabbed the doorknob and turned it, ready for what was about to happen next.

He was barely inside the room when Alex attacked. It was a quick attack, one Dean would have doted on, but Sam was ready. He grabbed the fist that came flying at him, the one with the broken wrist, and bent it behind Alex's back. Alex screamed in pain as Sam tightened his hold on the wrist.

"You need to realize something, little boy," Sam said softly kicking Alex in the legs, bringing him to his knees. "I have been at this a lot longer." He then slammed Dean's head into a night stand. Alex keeled over without any fight.

"Dean's gonna kill me," Sam muttered dragging his brother's body over to the bathroom. He threw Alex into the room and rushed over to Dean's bag. He knew his brother had a pair of handcuffs in there from a one nightstand with a cop. A pretty risky move, but if it didn't have risks it wasn't Dean's kind of thing.

Sam found the cuffs at the bottom of the bag, underneath the freshly washed clothes. Sam made a mental note to tell Dean, when all this was done, that he was in charge of the supernatural crap for a while. _I am taking a freaking break_, he thought wearily. He walked back into the bathroom and handcuffed Alex to the towel rack.

"That should hold you for a while," Sam muttered backing out of the room. He closed the door and for safe-measure pushed the table up to the door. He pushed the table on its side and wedged it into the door's frame, making sure the door couldn't be opened easily.

He pulled his shoes on, threw on a flannel and his jacket, and grabbed the Impala's keys. He needed to make a pit stop before figuring out what to do next.

He drove the ten miles to the hospital, hoping beyond hope that the handcuffs would hold Alex. Or at least the table. He pulled into the hospital's parking lot, right next to an old mini-van. The sight of it brought back an image of Dean, driving one of Bobby's cars down the street. _"I feel like a frigging soccer mom_." Sam smiled slightly, wondering what ever happened to that van.

_When Dean gets back to normal we should go look for that van_, Sam thought. He shook his head at the ridiculous thought and got out of the car. Heading into the hospital, he ran into Max Lawrence who was holding a cup of coffee and leaning against the wall as if expecting him.

"You expecting me?" Sam asked curiously.

"Yeah, kinda figured you'd haul your ass down here," Max replied lightly taking a sip of coffee. His face got serious and he lowered his voice, "What'd you do with Alex?"

"Handcuffed him to a towel rack, locked him in the bathroom," Sam replied softly feeling slightly guilty for that.

"Okay, at least he's out of the way," Max mumbled. He, too, looked uncomfortable with the fact that his grandchild-in his own body or not-had to be treated like some type of prisoner.  
"So, what are we going to do," Max continued throwing his cup in the garbage and pushing off the wall.

"That is a good question. I mean, I thought burning her remains would be enough to get rid of her. When it didn't change them back, I thought it'd just wear off. But now…" Sam let his voice trail off as he leaned against the wall.

"Now we need a new plan," Max responded quietly. He stroked his chin, thinking of what they could possibly have missed.

"Amelia was beaten, right?" Sam mumbled running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, by a local man. In her own home." Max was eyeing Sam curiously when a hint of realization came over his face. Sam snapped his fingers and said, "You don't think she's tied to her house, do you?"

"Huh, never thought of that."

"We've gotta salt and burn that house," Sam muttered shocked at how much he sounded like Dean.

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. We just can't just run into a house, one that is owned by the state nonetheless, and burn it down," Max said raising his hands in a helpless gesture.

"Then nothing will go back to normal," Sam replied simply. "Alex will still be in Dean's body, trying to kill anyone that crosses him, and Dean will still be a coma stuck in Alex's body. Your daughter and the other parents will just have to sit by their kids' bedside, hoping and praying they'll wake up when they won't. While the adults' family will have to tell people that they're kids won't be at the next holiday dinner because they are stuck in a psych ward…"

"Okay, guilt trip over. Where the hell'd you learn that look, it's like talking to Alex." Max sounded more amused than irritated. He agreed to meet Sam at midnight, at Amelia's house, and gave him the address. Sam thanked him and said he had to take care of a couple things.

"Do you want to see your brother," Max called before Sam could walk out the entrance.

"I will see him, after he gets back to normal," Sam called back and walked out of the hospital.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sam knew something was wrong the moment he stepped foot into the motel room. The place was too still, too quiet. Sam expected Alex to be screaming at him to let him out, for the couple in the next room to have already called the cops. For anything. But nothing of the sort happened. The room was just as quiet as Sam had left it.

Hunter instinct told him to be on alert, that something was incredibly wrong. He walked toward the bathroom door to see the table lying away from the door, the door wide open.

"Alex," Sam called knowing there was nowhere for the kid to hide. Sam walked into the bathroom, the towel rack lying on the floor handcuffs gone. Sam continued into the bathroom, noticing how the shower curtain was closed. He grabbed the curtain, ready to attack Alex if he flew at him, and yanked it open. Nothing.

Sam went to turn around, ready to walk out of the room and look for Alex outside, when the bathroom door creaked. Before Sam could defend himself, Alex used all of Dean's body weight to tackle him into the floor.

They landed with a thunderous crash, Sam landing on his newly healed arm. He felt for sure it broke again, but he wasn't entirely sure. Alex slammed his fist into Sam's face, blood flowing out of his nose.

"Get off me," Sam snapped kicking Alex off of him. Alex flew back, slamming into the back wall, leaving a crack in the drywall. Sam jumped to his feet, wiping blood from his face.

"Look, Alex, you need to calm down," Sam said forcefully as the kid struggled to his feet. He was holding the wall, trying to stay up. He attempted to attack Sam again, but once his arm left the support of the wall his leg collapsed under him.

"I'm sorry," Sam muttered not sure if he should walk forward and help him or leave him there. Tears were streaming down Alex's face-it was still so weird to see Dean cry so much in the past three days than he had in years-making up Sam's mind.

He crossed the room, ready to help the kid, when he attacked again. Alex grabbed Sam around the legs, bringing him down. The fall caused Sam to crack his head on the edge of the tub. He was out before he completely hit the ground.

Alex tried to get up, but Dean's leg shook under him. He collapsed back onto the ground, crying harder. He couldn't get out the door if he couldn't walk. He could try dragging himself, but that would just be too conspicuous. Plus, he still had the handcuffs around his wrist.

"Hello," a familiar voice called getting Alex's attention.

"Grandpa," Alex called dragging himself out of the bathroom. He didn't know why the old guy was there, and he didn't care. All he cared about was attacking the older man, using all his new strength to do him as much harm as possible. The old guy stood in the open doorway, looking cautiously around the room.

"Grandpa," Alex repeated stopping just outside the bathroom, pulling himself to his feet.

"What happened?" the old guy asked. Alex was amazed at how stupid the man was walking into a situation without thought for his own safety.

"Sam attacked me," Alex whispered through tears. He wanted to hit the old guy so hard that his teeth would get stuck in his throat.

"Well, come here. Let me give you a hug," the old guy said and spread his arms. _Jeez, how much easier can this guy make this_, Alex thought. He staggered forward, his leg almost collapsing again, and ended up falling into Max's arms.

Before he could do anything, put any of his plans into action, he felt a needle stick in his neck. The world dimmed suddenly and then went black.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Alex slumped forward in Max's arms, the weight nearly sending the old guy to his knees. He threw the unconscious guy/boy on the bed and headed into the bathroom. Sam was lying on his side, blood slowly leaking out of a wound on his head, just coming to.

"Hey," Max said painfully dropping down next to the kid. Sam opened his eyes, looking slightly confused as to where he was. Then he sat up quickly exclaiming, "Where is he?" it was the worst idea ever, Max knew that for a fact, because Sam lay back quickly putting his hands over his eyes.

"He's out," Max replied softly.

"How?" Sam asked still lying on his back, trying to stop the pounding headache that was threatening to overtake him again.

"I had a feeling you'd need my help. I thought that Amelia might have helped Alex get out, and he'd probably wait for you. So, I stole a needle and some sedatives from the storage closet, at the hospital, and followed you."

"Good to know," Sam replied softly. He tried to get up, but a wave of dizziness brought him back to the ground.

"Let me help you up," Max said getting to his own feet. He grabbed Sam under the arm and helped him up. The young hunter almost fell over, but Max made sure he didn't collapse back onto the floor.

"Come on, Kid," Max muttered and helped Sam out of the bathroom. He lowered him onto the unoccupied bed, not looking over at the unconscious body on the other bed, and asked, "Where's your first aid kit?"

"In Dean's car," Sam responded lying back. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but Max couldn't let him do that.

"You need to stay awake," he demanded and watched the young hunter open his eyes and give him a half-hearted glare.

"Where are the car keys?" Max asked. Sam failed to answer so the old guy sat on the bed and shook him awake. "Hey, car keys?"

"Here," Sam replied thickly and pulled the keys out of his coat pocket. He tried to hand them to Max, but they fell out of his hand before he succeeded. Max caught them before they could fall to the floor.

"Stay awake, Sam," Max said and headed out of the room. He was back in seconds, the first-aid kit in his hands. The kit was more like a small bag that looked so frayed it was a wonder it still held anything.

"You still awake?" Max asked sitting back onto Sam's bed. The young hunter raised a hand and feebly waved it before he let it fall again.

"Good," the old guy muttered. "I'm gonna need you to sit up." he hated to make the hunter less comfortable than he was, but he needed to clean the cut and bandage the wound. Sam tried to comply, but he was sent onto his back as another dizzy wave hit.

"I'll help," Max said and dragged the kid completely on the bed, helping him sit up with the headboard. He propped him up with the pillows from both that bed and the pillows off Dean's bed.

"You okay?"

"No," Sam replied attempting to shake his head to clear it. Instead of helping him it made him feel like he had to throw up.

"Okay, let me clean your wound," Max said. He extracted a bottle of alcohol and some cotton balls. "So, do you think you'll be okay for tonight?"

"Yeah, I should be. Maybe," Sam replied groggily.

"What happened? Why's he limping and why do you have a head wound?" Max pulled out a piece of gauze, the wound not deep enough to have to stitch, and put it over the wound. He taped it up with medical tape waiting for Sam to reply.

"Well, he was hiding behind the door and I didn't notice. I had my back turned for a few seconds…" he trailed off. Max shook him making him wake up, "…and he attacked," Sam continued as if he didn't pass out. "He tackled me to the floor, hurt my arm, and then hit me in the face."

"I see you've got a bloody nose," Max commented. "Do you think your arm's broken?"

"No, it's fine. Probably just a bruise," Sam replied. He groaned, putting a hand to his head, "If my head would stop pounding I'd be okay."

"Yeah, well you might have a concussion so it's gonna hurt a while. Until then, you can finish you story."

"Well, I kicked Dean… Alex off of me. He slammed into the bathroom wall, and I guess when he landed he hurt his leg. Then I made a rookie mistake, a freaking rookie mistake, and tried to help him. He attacked me and I hit my head on the bathtub."

Max stood up running a hand through his graying blond hair and said, "I'm going to leave for a little bit…"

"Why?"

"I need to buy salt, a lot of salt, and get some gasoline. If we're burning her house down we need to be ready. I figure you'll be okay for twenty minutes, right?"

"And if Alex wakes up," Sam asked wearily painfully glancing over at his brother's unconscious form.

"He won't, trust me," Max replied and walked out of the room closing the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Still not mine…**

_**Supernatural**_

Sam wasn't aware he had gone to sleep, until he felt someone shaking him slightly. At first he thought it was Dean and was about to yell at him to stop shaking him. Until the pounding came back, full force, and recent events caught up with him.

Sam sat up quickly, making the entire room spin, and looked around. As the room stopped he felt like he was going to puke.

"Easy, Kid," Max said pushing him back. He came into focus, sitting on the edge of the bed. He dangled Dean's keys in Sam's face, waiting for the young hunter to take them. Sam reached up and allowed Max to drop the keys in his hand.

"Your brother has a nice car. He takes very good care of," Max commented getting to his feet.

"Be sure to tell him that when this is all over," Sam muttered covering his eyes with his hands. The florescent light from the motel was making his head hurt.

"I'll try to remember," Max replied and Sam could hear a smile in his voice. "Okay, so I got all the supplies. I got two huge bags of road salt and a crap load of gas. When we're done with Amelia's house it'll be nothing more than a pile of ashes." Sam found it weird that Max kept talking about the ghost like she was alive. He had never dealt with anyone like that; he was mostly dealing with people who were afraid of the ghost. He also noted how uncomfortable the old guy sounded while talking about the burning of said ghost's house.

Sam decided not to comment on it, figuring to try and understand it would hurt his already pounding head. So he just said, "Do you think you can do this?"

"Between my grandson and Amelia, no question if I can do this or not. The real question is, however, can you do this?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Sam couldn't help but to compare his comment to the many Dean had given. Dean was never one to share how much pain he was in. The only rare moments Sam ever got an honest answer out of his brother was if he was drugged up or had a fever. And half the time those answers were in semi-coherent words.

"Really because I think you have a concussion." Max reminded Sam of his dad. John always knew when his kids were hurt worse than they let on. _When he actually paid attention_, Sam thought as a bitter afterthought.

"I'm fine," Sam lied knowing it didn't sound as convincing as he wanted it to. Especially when the room lurched and he nearly threw up, again.

"Look, I ain't your dad and you are technically an adult, but I seriously doubt you'll be okay by tonight."

"Look, if it was anyone else I would let Dean go with you and I _might_ stay here. But its Dean, which means I am definitely not staying here."

"Fine, but if you pass out it's on your head," Max replied wearily. He glanced over at Alex, who hadn't moved an inch since he knocked him out. Sam tried to follow his gaze, but moving his head just sent pain through his skull.

"You know, someone who hits their head normally goes to the hospital," Max commented his eyes snapping back to Sam.

"Yeah, well hospitals are overrated," Sam muttered. "Just keep an eye on me, if I go to sleep wake me up, and when this is over I'll consider a hospital."

"I'll bet," Max said in a skeptic tone.

"Look, I'll be fine. Honest, I have been hurt worse than this."

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Sam so hoped those words would be true when it was time to go to Amelia's. Come midnight, however, he still felt like crap. The world didn't spin as much as when he first received the injury, but it still wobbled from time to time. He knew Max was keeping an eye on him, probably expecting him to pass out at any moment, but Sam wasn't about to go down. Not until he knew Dean was okay and normal.

They pulled the Impala up to Amelia's old house, Sam behind the wheel. He looked up at the house: a small, stone, two story cottage. He could never wrap his head around how such nice people could go evil when they die. He couldn't see anyone evil living in the small cottage in front of him.

"Ready for this," Max asked opening the Impala's door and heading toward the trunk. Sam took a deep breath, got his bearings together, and followed. He swayed a little when he exited the Impala, but after a few seconds of teetering he was able to walk toward the trunk.

He unlocked the trunk and pulled up the weapons compartment. He pulled out two shotguns and handed Max one. He kept Dean's sawed-off for himself, weighing it in his hands.

He then handed Max a handful of rock salt bullets, pocketed another hand full, and then slammed the trunk door.

Max headed to the backseat, pulling open the door. He took out two containers of gas and two bags of salt. He handed one each to Sam, kept the other two and headed toward the house. Sam followed, shaking his head to clear it.

"I'll take upstairs, you get downstairs," Max said as he crouched in front of the door to pick it. "I'll light the match upstairs first and once we are out the door, you light the second match." Sam didn't feel much like telling the older man that he knew this already, he just wanted the damn job done.

After a few seconds, Max finally got the lock open and stood up. He tucked his salt under his arm, kept a tight grip on the gasoline and shotgun and headed in. He headed upstairs without a word to Sam.

Sam set to work on the downstairs, setting his gun on a small wooden table. He salted the entire area, uneasy about the fact that Amelia hadn't attacked, yet. It was when he set to work throwing gasoline around that things started picking up.

He wasn't paying much attention, the room slightly swaying room not helping, and didn't notice his gun floating a few inches off the table. He had enough time to hear the thing cocking before it went off, knocking him to the ground.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Max had just got done spreading gasoline around the upstairs when he heard a gunshot go off. He quickly lit his match and rushed downstairs to help Sam out. He was halfway down the steps, when Sam's shotgun pointed at him and went off. He ducked, rock salt raining down on him.

The gun fell to the floor as Amelia appeared out of nowhere. She was still wearing her blue dress, but her blue eyes didn't match the bright color. They were dark and angry. Max raised his shotgun and fired, sending her away.

He continued down the stairs just as Sam was getting to his feet. The kid was bent over slightly, holding his lower back.

"What happened?" Max asked.

"I got shot by the damn spirit," Sam replied bitterly. Max refrained from snapping back at him as the smoke from the top floor starting coming at them.

"Come on, Kid," he said and grabbed Sam's arm. Before they both could get out the door, Amelia reappeared, yanking Sam back into the house. Max felt his grip slip off of Sam's arm and heard the door slam behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for reading, review if you can, and see ya in the next story. And they still are not mine…**

_**Supernatural**_

Sam slammed into the ground, the air knocked out of him. He sat up, the room spinning, and looked directly at Amelia. She was staring at the ceiling, fire from above slowly starting to fall onto the gasoline covered downstairs. The small sparks set off the lower level, catching fire quickly.

With a vengeful look in her eyes, she snapped back to Sam. He backed up a few feet, his hand coming into contact with something solid. He looked down to see Dean's sawed-off, sitting where Amelia had dropped it.

Amelia was nearly on him, so he scooped up the gun and tried to fire. It clicked, telling him the thing was empty. That's when Amelia grabbed him by the throat and threw him into a wall. When he landed, Dean's gun flew out of his hands sliding just out of reach.

He was vaguely aware of someone pounding on the door, yelling his name. Before he could respond Amelia was hauling him to his feet again. She threw him into a table, sitting in the middle of the room. The table broke with his weight, making black spots appear in his eyes. He tried to shake them away, but smoke had hit his face and he started coughing making the black spots more predominant.

Amelia was leaning over him, his head was pounding causing the room to spin, and he was being overtaken by smoke. Things were not looking great for Sam. To make matters worse, blackness was slowly taking over. Before he could fight it, it took over and he knew no more.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Max couldn't get the door open, it just wouldn't budge. So he ran back to Dean's car, trying to find something that he could use to open the door. Then he looked at the car. _That could work_, he thought.

Not even a minute later, he had the car hotwired. He put it in drive and drove the vehicle at the house. It broke through the stone structure, bending the fender. Max backed the car up, making a mental note to pay for the damages, and tore out of the car.

He ran into the house as fast as his legs would carry him and stopped just as Amelia was about to pick Sam up again. The young hunter wasn't moving, didn't even notice that a ghost was about to attack him. Max scoped up the sawed-off off the floor, unloaded it, reloaded it, and fired. Amelia dropped Sam, dissipating again.

Max rushed forward, coughing as the smoke swirled around him, and grabbed Sam by the arms. Despite his aching back and protesting knees, he hauled the kid out of the burning house, through the Impala sized entryway.

"Hey, Kid," Max said kneeling next to Sam once he was outside. He didn't get a response, so he tapped him on the face, covered in ash and soot from the fire. Sam stirred but didn't wake up.

"I told you, Kid," Max muttered as he hauled Sam in a standing position. He half dragged, half carried him to the now wrecked Impala, stashed him in the passenger seat, threw Dean's sawed-off into the backseat, and ran around the still running car.

"Hold on, Sam," he said glancing over at the unconscious Sam, and squealed away from the house. Heading to the hospital.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Dean jerked awake, the motel the first thing he noticed. At first he thought he was dreaming, almost expecting Heather to be knocking on the door to tell him dinner was in ten, and then he felt pain. Despite the pain in his leg and back, he couldn't help but scramble to his feet. The room swayed slightly, but he managed to stay standing.

He ran to the mirror, next to the doorway, and nearly collapsed in relief. He was back to normal, he was himself again, he was Dean. _Sammy, wherever you are, you did it_, he thought half expecting Sam to walk through the door. Once he got over the relief of being back to normal, he noticed the bruise over his eyebrow. _How the hell…_

Deciding it was nothing to worry about at the moment, Dean limped back to his bed- the pain getting to him-and settled down. He just had to wait for Sam to show up and tell him what happened. He looked around the room to pass the time and came across the table lying on its side a few feet from the bathroom. _Wasn't that table on four legs the last time I saw it_.

"What the hell," he muttered painfully getting to his feet, again. He headed toward the bathroom, stopping at the threshold. The place made his knees go weak. He didn't want to think how much the damage would cost. There was a big crack in the drywall; Dean could almost see himself hitting that wall.

"Well, this just sucks," he muttered. His eyes continued to flick across the room, coming across the blood on the floor. Dean high-tailed it out of the bathroom, as fast as his bad leg would carry him, and grabbed his phone off the nightstand next to his bed.

He dialed the one number he knew better than his own and waited for his brother to pick up. He didn't get an answer. It rang four times before going to voicemail. He tried again, still getting no answer. On the third try, after working himself up into a blind panic, someone answered. It just wasn't the person Dean wanted to talk to.

"Hello," Max Lawrence's voice answered,

"Max?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah, where's Sam?" Dean asked. He was pacing back and forth; unaware of the pain it was causing him.

"He's… He's okay, he's just been admitted into the hospital," Max replied. Dean had to sit down before he fell over. He had to put his head between his knees before he threw up. "Dean, you there," Max called. Dean took another minute to collect himself then put the phone back to his ear and said, "Yeah, I'll be there in a moment."

"You can't," Max replied quickly.

"And why is that," Dean said through clenched teeth.

"I have your car, but I'll come get you."

"Fine."

"Are you okay, by the way?" the question caught Dean off guard. He wasn't sure if he should lie to the old man or not. He decided it wasn't worth it to lie so he said, "My leg is killing me, my back hurts, and I feel a little groggy."

"Yeah, that's because I drugged you. Or Alex," Max replied. Dean could hear his car in the background, knowing Max was on his way.

"Why?"

"Because he attacked your brother, and I didn't want him to get loose and hurt other people. I don't think the cops would hesitate to check your criminal background."

"Fine, how long 'til you get here?" Dean just wanted to make sure his brother was okay. He didn't care what had to be done to him as long as Sam was okay.

"I'll be there in a few," Max replied and hung up. Dean snapped his phone shut and tossed it on the bed. He lay back, trying to fight the grogginess that was settling over him, and looked up at the ceiling. _Sammy you'd better be okay, because I am not going to lose you because of this stupid hunt._

The thought was barely out of his head when a horn sounded from outside. He jumped to his feet, the room swaying and his leg screaming at him in pain, and rushed outside. When his eyes first glanced at his car he couldn't believe it was his. Then he saw the license plate-KAZ 2Y5-and nearly fell over again. He grabbed the doorframe before he went down.

"Dean," Max said getting out of the car and rushing forward to help. Dean pulled away from him, staggering toward his car.

"What…what did you…" he managed to get out in a hoarse whisper. He knelt next to the bent fender, surprised the car still ran. "Oh, Baby, what happened?"

"Dean, I promise I will pay for all repairs. But, I think Sam is more important than the car right now."

Just mentioning Sam made Dean's worry peak. He cared about his car, but his brother was his number one priority. He pulled himself to his feet and headed toward the driver side. Max grabbed him before he could make it completely over to the door, his leg nearly giving out on him.

"Maybe we should take my vehicle," Max commented directing Dean over to his old Ford.

"How much of that drug did you give me?" Dean asked as he pulled out of Max's grip and begrudgingly got in the old man's truck. Max got behind the wheel, started it, and took off down the street.

"Enough to take down someone for at least a day. But I doubt it's the drug that's screwing with you. It's your leg, your back, that head injury, the pure fact that you were eight for three days and now are…"

"I get it," Dean interrupted the man's constant chatter making his head hurt. He massaged his temples before saying, "How did Sam end up in the hospital?"

"Smoke inhalation and a head injury," Max replied without looking at Dean.

"Did…did Alex give him the head injury?" Dean asked remembering the blood on the bathroom floor.

"Yeah."

"Fantastic," Dean muttered. Deep down, he felt a wave of guilt just thinking about Sam's injuries. If he'd just kept himself off the witch's…ghost's-_whatever_-radar than Sam would have had backup. _He wouldn't have the damn injuries at all_.

"Don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known Amelia was going to go after you," Max's voice broke into his thoughts.

"How'd you take care of her, anyway?" Dean couldn't help but ask, his last memory being him collapsing on the playground.

"We burnt her house down." Max didn't look at Dean, but the older Winchester could see how much that bothered him. _People are freaking weird._

"Did you now? And Sam went along with that?"

"It was his idea," Max muttered and they both went silent. A few moments later, they pulled into the hospital's parking lot. Dean was out of the truck before it stopped, racing toward the hospital as fast as his injured leg could carry him. Max was directly behind him, ready if the kid collapsed.

"He's behind that curtain." Dean heard Max say and headed toward the ER. He drew back the first curtain and got the first glimpse at his brother.

Sam's skin was black from smoke, sweat, and grime. He had an oxygen mask over his face, helping his smoke filled lungs breathe. He had gauze covering a cut about his eyebrow, one that was slowly turning his forehead purple. Dean couldn't help thinking, _we have matching cuts now._

"The doctor said he was okay. They just gave him something to sleep; he kept saying he couldn't pass out until he knew you were okay. He's a very stubborn individual."

"Yeah, he is," Dean agreed limping over to Sam. He pulled a chair up, sitting next to him. He grabbed his brother's hand, wondering how something as harmless as a spirit could put them through all this misery.

"I'm going to leave you alone," Max said and backed out of the curtained area. Dean barely registered what he said. He just wanted to stick with his brother, keep him safe, and never leave his side again. "I'm sorry, Sammy. Sorry for ever getting attacked by that she-bitch." He knew he shouldn't blame himself, but he felt partially responsible. _I am so screwed up._

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Max was in the elevator, heading toward the third floor-the pediatrics ward-wondering if he should get coffee. The elevator doors opened. He was barely out the doors, when a loud voice called, "GRANDPA!" he looked up, just in time to see a little blond boy run at him. He bent down and scooped Alex into his arms.

"Alex, are you okay," he asked giving the kid a hug.

"Yeah, just a little tired," the kid replied. He had changed out of the hospital issued pajamas and into the clothes he came in. Max almost believed he was still Dean. "How's Sam?"

"Sam's fine. He's downstairs with his brother," Max replied setting the kid back onto the ground.

"I want to go see him. I need to thank him," Alex said quickly. Heather was walking toward them and the kid knew it. He, like Max, didn't want Heather to know anything about the previous few days.

"Alexander, why are you out here. You should be lying down," Heather said, scolding her son half-heartedly.

"Come on, Mom. I don't want to lie down anymore. Can't I just go for a walk with Grandpa?"

Heather sighed, close to rolling her eyes, and said, "Yeah, go. Tell those boys thanks from me." Max had no idea how she knew, he was sure him and Dean covered their tracks perfectly, but she knew. She must have seen the look on his face because she said, "Dad, Alex has never been able to eat like that. That was someone else. Plus, I noticed the folder full of newspaper clippings, and I heard you call Alex '_Dean_' once. I'm not stupid, Dad. Just be sure to thank them from me." Max nodded and directed Alex to the elevator.

They went back down to the first floor and headed toward the curtained areas. When Max pulled back the curtain to show Alex the two Winchesters, he found not only Sam asleep but Dean, too.

"Do you want to come back later?" Max whispered closing the curtained again.

"Yeah, that would be okay." they started walking back to the elevator, when Alex stopped and asked, "Can we get ice cream?"

"I'm sure the cafeteria has some," Max replied and they headed down the hall.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

The first thing Sam was aware of when he woke up was a light snoring. He looked over and saw his brother-back in his own body-head buried in his arms, arms resting on the bed, sound asleep. The second thing was the pain. His head hurt, his back hurt, his chest hurt, there wasn't much of his body that didn't hurt. And to make matters worse, his brother had a tight grip on his hand and it had gone to sleep. The last thing was the oxygen mask covering his face.

He lifted the mask and said, "Dean," or he tried to say. It came out as a hoarse whisper. He cleaned his throat, the action sending a searing pain through his trachea, and tried again, "Dean." His voice wasn't much louder than before, but it was loud enough to wake Dean. His head shot up and blurry green eyes focused on him.

"You okay, Sammy," Dean asked before Sam could say anything.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam managed to get out. The attempt at a full sentence made him have to cough. He didn't want to, afraid of how much pain it would cause, but he couldn't hold it back. A cough erupted out of his mouth, making his chest and throat hurt.

"Easy, easy," Dean said sitting up but not letting Sam's hand go. He pulled the mask back over his brother's head, telling him to breathe. The coughing subsided as a nurse came walking into the curtained area.

"I heard coughing had to check to see if you were okay," she said checking over Sam's vitals.

"I'm fine," Sam said through the mask, voice muffled.

"I'm sure," Dean and the nurse said at the same time. When the nurse was satisfied that Sam wasn't about to die, she scribbled a couple things onto his chart and headed back to the nurses station.

"I'm assuming Alex is awake," Sam rasped out.

"I don't know," Dean replied. "Do you want a drink of water?" Sam nodded, talking starting to hurt his already tender throat. Dean got to his feet and disappeared behind the curtain. Sam tried to watch him go, but sitting up made him dizzy. He was debating whether to doze off again or not when he heard the curtain pull back.

Dean," he called in a whisper, opening his eyes. Instead of his brother there were two familiar people. "Hey guys."

"Hi, Kid," Max said with a smile. Alex stayed back, looking slightly ashamed. He, like Dean, blamed himself for Sam's condition. Even if it was Alex controlling the body and Dean's body, it was not their faults.

"Alex, you okay?" Sam asked looking at the boy he had never seen, but had gotten to know.

"Yeah, thanks to you," Alex replied quietly. He walked closer to Sam but stopped before he reached the bed. "My mom says 'thanks,' too."

"How does she…?"

"Hunter's instinct never fully dies," Max replied just as Dean came back, carrying a cup of water. He nearly dropped the liquid when he spotted Alex just standing there.

"Hey, Kid," he said softly.

"Hi," Alex responded smiling slightly.

"Um, here's your water, Sammy." Dean walked toward his brother, helping him sit up. He lifted the mask and poured the water into Sam's mouth. The water soothed Sam's tender throat.

"I'm sorry," Alex said in an anxious voice. He looked close to tears, seeing Sam in such a vulnerable position.

"For what," Dean, Sam, and Max said at the same time.

"It's just… Ghost or not, I caused this. Kinda. I mean, I attacked him. I was the one that caused him to hit his head… If he wasn't hurt by me, well he would have been able to take on that ghost and he wouldn't have been hurt worse by her." Alex took a shuddering breath, trying to hold in his tears.

Before anyone else could say anything, Dean set the cup of water on a nearby table and crouched down in front of the kid. "Listen to me, Alex. You are not to blame for this, never, for one second, believe that you are. Do you understand me?" Alex nodded, averting his eyes from Dean. "Good. Because it's not our fault Sammy is a stubborn buffoon." Alex smiled at that comment as Sam said, "Takes one to know one."

Max laughed at that comment, amused at how much the two could rag on each other. He never seen them together before, and now that he had he actually wished he knew them earlier.

"Bitch," Dean said softly getting to his feet.

"Jerk," Sam muttered and drifted off to sleep again.

_**SUPERNATURAL**_

Max had been good on his promise and when Sam had been released from the hospital the following day, Dean's Impala was being looked at by the local mechanic. Both brothers went back to their motel room, where they tried to clean up as best they could. Instead of getting in trouble for the huge crack in the wall, the owner merely told them that it wasn't an uncommon thing, that they could have done worse to the room, and reassured them they didn't have to pay for the wall. "What is insurance for if not to pay for little things like that," he had said wearily.

It took another day before the Impala was ready. The mechanic drove to the motel personally, commenting on how the car drove and how much he wished he could find something like that.

Dean and Sam were planning to leave at noon that day, just wanting to get back on the road. They also didn't want the cottage burning pinned on them. Dean was just packing up the car, throwing their duffle bags in the trunk, when he heard a truck pull into the parking lot. He looked up in time to see Max pull up next to him.

"Hey," he said opening the door. Alex slid out after him, his mother following. Max had a folder under his arm which peaked Dean's interest.

"We wanted to say good-bye," Heather said standing right behind her son. She had her hands on his shoulders, watching Dean curiously.

"Well, let me get Sam." before he could head toward the motel, Sam walked out locking the door. He carried the keys, intending to drop them off at the office, but stopped when he saw the Lawrences.

"Hey," he said walking over to them. His bruise was still purple, but wasn't as bad as when he first got it. He was walking slower than normal, the rock salt giving him a wicked bruise on his lower back and hurting him when he walked. Dean called him gramps for a few hours before his own back pain caused him to stop.

"Just wanted to see you two off," Max said before Dean could say anything. He was still holding the folder and Dean was so close to ripping it out of his hands. He wanted to know what was so important about the folder.

"Oh, that was nice of you," Sam said leaning against the car. He crossed his arms, eyeing the folder, too.

"Alex has something he wants to say," Heather said quickly and gently pushed him forward.

"Thanks guys," Alex replied. He broke the distance between them and hugged Dean then Sam. He then retreated behind his mother.

"Thank you," Heather said softly and heading back to the truck. Max was bouncing on the balls of his feet, aware of the two Winchester's looking at the folder. He smiled slightly and held it out to Dean.

"Something that had me intrigued. It sounds like a shapeshifter, possibly a demon, but I can't be sure. It's in Milwaukee, a long way from this place, and I was wondering if you two wanted to check it out."

Dean flicked through the folder, taking in the contents, and then handed it to Sam. Sam looked through the contents, too, and then set the folder onto the Impala's hood.

"I guess we could check it out," Sam said politely. Dean could tell his brother didn't exactly want to do another hunt so quickly, but what else were they going to do.

"See you boys. Whenever you're in Georgia again you should come stay at our house. Maggie can make dinner, you'd enjoy that." Max then nodded, opened his truck door, and got in. "Oh and that fire was pinned on some boys from the town over. We were there to check for any stragglers." The engine roared to life and he pulled out. The family waved at the Winchesters and then they were gone.

"Well, they were nice," Dean commented heading toward the driver side of the Impala. Sam nodded as he walked toward the office. He was back in seconds, picking up the folder before getting in the car.

"Do you honestly want to check this out?" Sam asked flipping through the folder again. He looked up at Dean, who was giving him an incredulous look.

"Dude, come on, it's probably just a shapeshifter. What's the worst that could happen," Dean asked and started the car. He backed out of the motel's parking lot and sped down the road…

END…


End file.
